


Argyle Socks, Chamomile Tea, and 3 AM Cookies

by AuthorOutOfTime



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cookies, Fluff, M/M, Neighbors AU, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Tattooed Bucky, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, and argyle socks, bucky is a bartender, hipster skinny steve, mild violence, steve has an american flag robe, that he knitted himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorOutOfTime/pseuds/AuthorOutOfTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has had it with his neighbor waking him up at three in the morning with his karaoke. He marches over intent on asking him politely to knock it the hell off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMeaningofHaste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMeaningofHaste/gifts).



> Thank you, TheMeaningOfHaste, for being the best beta ever! I wrote this for her after I lost a bet. She picked the prompt, I ran with it, and this is what happened!

Bucky Barnes was feeling good tonight. He’d managed to knock off on time and even had time for a few drinks before he got tired of the company and headed home.

He wandered down the hall to his apartment feeling happily hazy. It was still early. Maybe he’d make cookies. He giggled a little at the thought and somehow got the key into the lock in one try. He could feel the caffeine from two Red Bulls buzzing in his veins and making him jittery. He needed to burn it off and what was better for burning off caffeine and alcohol than dancing? He unlocked his phone while still standing in the doorway and opened his radio app. He wrinkled his nose as ‘Call Me Maybe’ started playing, but his head was already bopping along. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d begun to mumble along to the verse, which he didn’t know, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna own the chorus.

“Hey! I just met you! And this is CRAZY! But here’s my number! So CALL ME MAYBE!”

***

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” Steve grumbled. He reached for his phone. Three AM. It was three freaking AM. It was also the third night in a row. It was one thing on Friday night, when it was ‘867-5309’ and he didn’t have to get up early. It was almost cute on Saturday, when it was ‘Call Me’ by Blondie and, again, he was able to sleep in on Sunday. But tonight, ‘Call Me Maybe’ was the last straw.

Steve got out of bed and pulled on his warmest robe. It was colder than cold in the hallway and he didn’t really care if his star spangled robe garnered curious looks. He was about to pound on his neighbor’s door to tell him to shut the hell up with the karaoke.

“Steve, go tell him to stop,” Sam groaned from his room.

“You could go, too, you know?” Steve grumbled.

Sam merely gestured vaguely and rolled back over.

Steve stepped out of his apartment and into the hall, immediately thankful for his thick woolen socks. He knew knitting would come in handy someday. He was even getting good enough to do patterns. This pair was orange and purple argyle.

He squared his skinny shoulders, tilted his chin at what Sam would undoubtedly describe as a truculent angle, and knocked on the door as noisily as he could. He wasn’t sure if he’d been heard at first, and was raising his fist to knock again when the door burst open and there in front of him stood the most handsome man he’d ever seen in the history of his 22 short years.

Taller than Steve (not that that was any great feat), he had fluffy brown hair, grey eyes that made Steve think of a storm about to break, the crookedest, easiest grin playing on his outrageously sexy lips, and what looked like the end of a very intricate tattoo that ended on his wrist where his long sleeve rode up. This guy managed to take the wind out his sails before he even got to yell at him for making too much noise.

***

Who the hell was knocking? It was three in the morning! Bucky opened the door and found the sexiest little thing he’d ever seen staring up at him with a truculent tilt to his chin. Frankly ridiculous blue eyes glared up at him from under thick, long lashes and Bucky would be damned there wasn’t anything in the world he wouldn’t do to see those full lips smiling at him, especially with that little hoop in the corner. Fuck, but Bucky wanted to bite it. As it was, he was being frowned at so severely that he was becoming legitimately concerned that the blond, skinny sex-god in front of him would hurt himself. So, he leaned against the door, purposefully allowing his shirt to ride up and grinned.

***

“Hey, dollface, what’s up?” Tall, fluffy-haired, and handsome asked after a moment, leaning against the door jamb with a big smile.

“I, uh, you’re really loud,” Steve managed to mutter, feeling himself blush from his navel to his scalp. Did he just call him ‘dollface’? Shouldn’t Steve be bothered by that?

“Come on in. Why are you wrapped in an American flag? Are those argyle socks? What are you, 90? Is that lip ring real? ‘Cause that’s kinda hot. You want a drink?” Ridiculously Energetic (and hot, don’t forget hot) Guy had already bounced away behind his kitchen island.

Steve stood in the doorway staring after his apparent host like he’d lost his mind. What the hell was with the rapid-fire questions? Did he go in? Did he go back to his own apartment and hope the guy stopped? He wished he could call Sam. He was so much better at this sort of thing.

“Come on in! I was just about to make cookies. You want some?” Ridiculously Energetic (and hot, don’t forget hot) Guy popped out of the fridge with a roll of cookie dough.

“Cookies?” Steve managed weakly. He was so out of his depth.

“Yeah. I bought one of those tubey things and – why are you still standing in the hall? It’s freezing out there. Come on. What’s your name?” Before Steve could respond, Bucky was back in front of him and dragging him into his apartment. He pushed the door shut and bounded back to the kitchen. He wasn’t going to question why this kid was knocking on his door. He was sober enough to not do anything stupid and screw up whatever chance he might have, but he was drunk enough to have a little fun.

“S…Steve. I’m sorry, what? I don’t even know your name. I came over to ask you if you could stop singing because it’s th - ”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry did I wake you? I’m Bucky. I work weird hours and usually end up awake at the strangest times. I’m a bartender and tonight I got off early enough to be the one drinking a few of the drinks instead of making them.” Bucky grabbed a knife, fileting the tube of cookie dough. He honestly hadn’t realized he was singing that loudly.

“Listen, Bucky, I didn’t mean to intrude on your…concert, but I - ”

“Damn, I did wake you. I’m sorry. I had two Red Bull and vodkas and apparently they really kicked my ass.” Bucky felt himself blushing, something he only ever did when he was drinking. Dammit, why now?

Bucky looked so abashed, and Steve found the last vestiges of his annoyance at being woken up three nights in a row evaporating.

“It’s okay, Buck, just…if you’re going to do drunk karaoke, maybe retire ‘Call Me Maybe’?”

Bucky smiled at the nickname. “Yeah, sure, no more Carly Rae. Do you want, I don’t know… I feel bad waking you up. I have chamomile tea. Do you want a cup?”

Steve wavered for a moment, poking at his lip ring with the tip of his tongue. Yes, he was tired. Yes, he was supposed to have three final layouts finished tomorrow by noon. Yes, he had a meeting with Peggy to approve the redesign on her flyers for her grand reopening. And no, god knew, he wasn’t bold enough to actually proposition anyone, let alone someone he found as attractive as Bucky, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think one single good reason to say no to his hyperactive puppy of a neighbor’s offer of chamomile tea at 3:15 in the morning.

Bucky watched Steve thinking. The way he played with his lip ring was making Bucky wish he was standing behind the island. It would be mightily embarrassing if Steve were to notice that particular problem.  He swiped his tongue over his lip and unconsciously poked at the same spot on his own lip where Steve had the piercing.

Steve looked up, finding Bucky staring at him, his tongue absently poking at the corner of his mouth in a mirror of what Steve himself had been doing only a moment before. “Only if you’ll have a cup with me,” Steve said with as little awkwardness as he could manage (admittedly, it was still really awkward).

The lopsided grin was back and Steve wondered when the sun started coming out in the middle of the night. _Poetic_ , he thought sardonically.

“What?” Bucky asked, already turned away and grabbing the electric kettle from his counter.

“I…no. Nothing. Just thinking. Out loud, apparently.” _Smooth, Rogers, you fuckin’ nerd_ , Steve thought.

“You talk to yourself a lot? It’s cute. Sit down. And you never answered me. Is that lip ring real?” Bucky had already started the kettle and was spooning cookie dough onto a baking sheet.

“Yes, it’s real. Do people really wear fake ones?” Steve hopped up on one of the stools that sat under the island. 

“You’d be surprised what people will fake to get you to like them,” Bucky said as he turned to put the tray of cookies into the oven. “I saved some of the dough. Want a spoon?”

“You shouldn’t eat raw things,” Steve admonished, grabbing the proffered spoon.

Bucky laughed and they dug in. After a few minutes in which they ate a couple spoonfuls, smiling stupidly at each other, the kettle beeped. Bucky dropped the tea bags into mugs and carefully poured water in.

“That tattoo looks awesome,” Steve said as Bucky’s sleeve rode up again.

“Oh, yeah, thanks, man. Wanna see it?” Before Steve could even formulate an answer, Bucky had his shirt half off and was turning around to give him a look. He wondered briefly what the hell he thought he was doing, but one look at Steve told him he’d made the right decision. Steve’s eyes lingered on his chest for just a moment longer than necessary before he caught sight of just how extensive and intricate the tat was.

“It’s…Jesus, it’s incredible.” Steve’s fingers itched to trace over the design. Steampunky, with gears and plating, all done in black and grey with the exception of a bright red star, the tattoo extended from wrist to back and chest, ending raggedly at the edges, looking like a mechanical arm was messily attached. Steve leaned in a little closer, wanting to see the details. He’d never seen anything quite so real. His fingers hovered over Bucky’s arm, wanting desperately to touch.

“My, uh, my friend Natasha, she’s a helluva artist,” Bucky said, his voice catching in an odd way.

“Next time I go for ink, I want her,” Steve said. He seemed to realize that he was staring and very close to touching because he yanked his hand back and looked up at Bucky’s face.

His expression was unreadable for a moment before his slow grin slipped back into place. “She’ll love that,” he said, lifting his shirt to pull it back over his arm.

It was only then, as his arm flexed that Steve noticed the scarring. “Jesus, Buck…” he said, his jaw hanging slackly.

“What? Likin’ the gun show?” Bucky laughed easily.

“No, I – Well, _yes_ , if you must know, it’s a helluva show, but…your arm…” Steve was stumbling. He knew scarring. He hid his scar, too, not under an intricate tattoo, but layers of shirts. He never took his shirt off in front of anyone. Not even Sam had seen the scar, and they’d been roommates for three years.

Bucky froze, his shirt over his arm but still bunched up around his abs. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to have people stare at a scar. I shouldn’t have…I’ll just go.” Steve slipped off of the stool and stared toward the door.

 _Shit, no don’t go!_ It took Bucky all of two seconds to hurry around to stop him. “No! Please, stay. It’s okay. It’s…I don’t even know why I’m freaking out. I showed you. I should have thought you’d see it and ask.” He was holding Steve by the hand, having grabbed him to spin him around. They stood close, very close, close enough for Bucky to see the pale freckles that spread across Steve’s cheeks and nose. He looked down at their hands and then back up, though this time it was from under thick, dark lashes. A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “God, I’m drunker than I thought I was if I’m pulling my shirt off in front of a perfect stranger.”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine,” Steve stammered. He suddenly wished he had his inhaler. He wasn’t sure he could draw breath, being this close to Bucky. Despite the overlying fug of cigarettes, there was a heady combination of whiskey and dark chocolate with just a hint of cinnamon. _Shit_ , Steve thought.

“What did you mean, you know what it’s like?” Bucky asked. He wanted desperately to go back to the easy smiles when they were eating cookie dough.

“I had open heart surgery,” Steve said softly. He never talked about it. Why was he talking about it? “I had a heart attack when I was 17.”

“Damn,” Bucky muttered. He knew the kid all of fifteen minutes and he could feel the beginnings of tears pricking the backs of his eyes. Was it the fact that he was still pretty buzzed, or was it something about this spunky, shy man in front of him?

“I’m fine now. The docs fixed me all up. I just have a really big, ugly scar. I don’t let anyone see it,” he said uncomfortably.

“I was in a car accident. The guy who hit me was texting and t-boned me. My left side got the worst of it. But, hey, I’m still here, right? And so are you! And – ” The oven timer chose that moment to beep. “And we have cookies! Come on. They’re best when the chocolate burns your mouth.” Bucky pulled on Steve’s hand and realized with a start that he’d never let go of it.

Steve grinned indulgently at the back of Bucky’s head and allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen.

Bucky finally let go of Steve’s hand so that he could take the tray of cookies out of the oven. He dumped them unceremoniously onto a plate.

“Eat!” he commanded, shoving a whole cookie into his mouth at once and moaning. “They’re so good! C’mon, Stevie!” He covered his mouth with his hand to stop crumbs from spraying out.

Steve felt himself blushing again when Bucky called him ‘Stevie’, but found that it felt really right. He picked up a cookie and bit into it, hoping to gloss over his traitorous complexion. Nibbling at a cookie, he watched Bucky’s jaw and then throat work as he chewed and swallowed. He found himself wanting a taste of Bucky’s skin more than the cookie. When Bucky finally moved his hand, he had a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, Buck, you got a little somethin’ there,” Steve said, gesturing to the corner of his own mouth.

“Yeah? So do you, punk,” Bucky shot back, his tonguing poking out but on the wrong side.

Steve laughed. “No, you jerk, the other side. Here, let me.” And before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching out and brushing his thumb against soft skin. His breath caught when he realized what he’d done, and he started to pull his hand away.

Bucky thought he died and went straight to heaven. Was he really this starved for affection that he was grabbing Steve’s wrist when he would have pulled away? Hell, yes, he was. He moved slowly, giving him ample time to pull away, and sucked the pad of Steve’s thumb clean. Steve, for his part, just watched, eyes wide, pupils slightly dilated, and sucked in a quick breath when Bucky’s lips released his thumb.

 _What the hell is happening?_ Steve wondered. One moment they were back on even footing and eating cookies, the next, Bucky was sucking on his thumb and why was that not weird? Better question, why did it feel like all the oxygen was missing from the room? Steve was so preoccupied with the excitement and confusion that he almost missed what Bucky said next.

“Did I get it?”

Steve swallowed tightly. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s lips. It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Oh, god, this wasn’t him, he didn’t do this, what was he thinking? “No, I think I missed a spot,” he said softly.

“Wanna take care of it?” _Jesus H, Barnes, what a line!_ Bucky thought, but then he wasn’t thinking about bad lines anymore because Steve was pressed against him, kissing him gently and holy shit, he could get used to this really easily.

Instinct told him to take it as slow as he possibly could, so rather than gripping Steve’s thighs and lifting him up like he wanted to, he carefully wrapped his arms around him and let Steve dictate their next move. Steve was good at this, damn good, and Bucky was more than content to allow him whatever he wanted. Besides, that lip ring felt just as good as he thought it would.

Steve’s mind raced a mile a second. Should he back off? Oh, but, no, Bucky’s arms were coming around him. Why did that feel like home? Shit, he was in too deep and all he knew about the guy was that he had a penchant for bad pop music and cookies at 3 in the morning. But to hell with caution for once. Bucky felt too good, smelled too good, tasted too good, and it had been too damn long since Steve had even allowed himself the option of this. He gave himself over to it, whatever _it_ happened to be. Tangling his hands in Bucky’s hair, he pressed himself closer.

Bucky groaned softly in the back of his throat. Damn, but this night was turning out to be far stranger than he thought possible. Never one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, though, he angled his head and ran his tongue along the seam of Steve’s lips. He was rewarded with a sigh and the lightest touch of Steve’s tongue against his. He stepped back, feeling Steve follow closely, pressing against him as if any space between them was too much. Confident now that Steve would come with him, Bucky backed up to the couch where he sat down heavily.

Steve didn’t even give himself time to think about why this was a bad idea, or what could go wrong, or that he was still in a giant, fluffy American flag bathrobe. He simply followed Bucky down onto the couch, straddling his hips and sinking against him. He nipped at Bucky’s ear lobe and smiled at the whimper he elicited.

Bucky took Steve’s face in his hands and brought their lips back together. His neck and ears were far too sensitive for whatever this was to remain chaste. He took control of the kiss, still keeping it slow and sweet and altogether too good.

Steve had no idea how long they sat there, tangled up in each other. Eventually he pulled back enough to whisper, “I should go.”

“No, baby, its cold outside,” Bucky murmured, chasing Steve’s lips.

Steve laughed against his mouth. “I live across the hall.”

“The hall is cold. It’s warm in here. We have cookies. Stay.” Bucky started pressing little sucking kisses against Steve’s throat.

“Maybe we should talk about a date before you go giving me a hickey,” Steve said, but making no move to pull away.

“Dinner, here, tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you cook?” Steve asked, sitting back on Bucky’s knees.

“God, no. I am the king of takeout.” Bucky ran his hands up and down Steve’s robe-covered thighs.

“I’ll cook. You bring the wine. God, that feels nice.”

“Wine? Really? I don’t know anything about wine. Can I interest you in a beer instead?”

Steve stood up reluctantly. He found himself wanting to curl back up in Bucky’s lap and spend the night pressed right up against him. “Fine, whatever, I’ll do food, you do alcohol. Any requests?”

“Yeah, actually, just one. Don’t go? I don’t know if I can make it until tomorrow.” Bucky grinned, standing and wrapping his arms once more around Steve.

Steve laughed. “I have to work tomorrow. I work from home, though, so I’ll be right across the hall.”

Bucky brightened and threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they made their way to the door. He opened it, keeping Steve under his arm.

 “Wanna come over around 6?”

“Yeah, 6 is good,” Steve said, suddenly inexplicably shy. “Bye, I guess.”

“See you tomorrow, Stevie,” Bucky said, leaning in for one last kiss.

By the time Steve made it back to his own apartment, one kiss had turned into two and two into three. He was on cloud nine. He closed the door with a soft click and padded back toward his bedroom.

“Did you tell him, Steve?” Sam called sleepily.

“Yeah, Sam. I told him,” he said with a grin.


	2. Meatballs, Psycho Ringtones, and Classic Films

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After successfully, if accidentally, seducing each other with cookies in the middle of the night, Steve and Bucky have their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never meant for this to be anything more than a fluffy little one shot but people asked that it have another chapter and TheMeaningOfHaste is a beautiful beta and a terrible enabler.

The day was crawling. Steve knew it was his own damn fault, but he couldn’t regret one moment that he’d spent in Bucky’s apartment, or, and most especially, on Bucky’s lap. He was just finishing up the last of the three layouts he needed to complete (only an hour late, thank you very much) when his phone rang.

“You know you were supposed to be meeting with me right now, don’t you?” Peggy asked crisply by way of greeting.

“Yeah, sorry, Pegs. I texted you that I’d be late. I had a bit of a night last night and these damn layouts weren’t cooperating.” Steve saved the last file and emailed it to his boss for final-final approval.

“Did you actually send the text, or just type it out again? I never received it.”

Steve held his phone from his ear and checked his messages app. Lo and behold, there sat the text to Peggy, waiting to be sent. _Shit,_ he thought. “Uh, nope, I sent it. I don’t know what happened.” _You’re a terrible liar, Stevie-m’boy. Wait, when did Stevie become okay?_

“Steve, I’ve known you since we were children. I know you’re lying. You’re terrible at it. Just, please, get here as quickly as you can. I’d like to have this sent to the printer today.” Peggy sounded exasperated, but fondly so. She was used to this.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He shoved his arms in his leather jacket and was just about to step into his boots.

“Good, and then after you can tell me what you were doing until half-four this morning.”

He could hear the smile in Peggy’s voice and knew he would probably need to kill Sam. He wondered briefly if Bucky would be willing to help him hide a body.

“Don’t bother denying that you weren’t doing _something_ , Rogers. I can feel the blush straight through the phone. I’ll see you in ten,” she said, swiftly ending the call before Steve could even pretend to have a response ready. He shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed his battered leather messenger bag and keys, and opened the door.

***

Bucky woke up alone in his king-sized bed, wishing like hell he could go back to sleep. He reached for his phone to check the time. It was only 12:30, not nearly late enough. But, now that he was awake, he was thinking about Steve. How had he never met the kid? He’d been living in this building for six months and he’d only ever seen one guy coming and going from that apartment and while the guy was attractive, he certainly wasn’t Steve.

Bucky flopped back onto his back and checked his texts. God, why did he always have so many? And why were there more coming in a steady stream? Two from work, asking him to come in tonight, which he answered with a ‘no’, then a ‘screw you, Barton, I’ve got plans’ when Clint immediately asked again. One from Brock, asking to see him again, which he deleted without responding. And no less than forty from Natasha, beginning with ‘let’s see how high I can count before Jamie wakes up’. At least he knew what woke him up.

He tapped her name and she answered immediately. “Good afternoon, Jamie. Glad to see you’re up with the sun.”

“Go to hell, Red. I hate you. Don’t call me Jamie.”

“Is that any way to speak to the only woman in your life that matters?” He could practically hear her perfectly sculpted brow rising.

“What do you want? I never went to bed until six.”

“Yeah? Who was he? Or is he? Is he still there? Should I call back later?” Now he could hear the smirk in her voice.

“No, he left around 4:30, and I had to jerk off three times to get to sleep,” Bucky said in an effort to get her to drop it. Unfortunately, it was only a slight exaggeration.

“Charming as ever, Jamie,” she said.

He knew it wouldn’t work, could feel the expectation. God, but Natasha Romanoff was difficult. His best friend since elementary school, they’d had a thing for a hot minute the summer they graduated until Bucky finally admitted that girls weren’t his thing. When told her, Natasha had just rolled her eyes and muttered, “Finally,” before kissing his cheek and then sitting down on Clint Barton’s lap.

After dragging the silence out as long as he thought she’d allow it, Bucky sighed resignedly and launched into describing Steve.

“I met him last night. Nat, he’s fucking incredible. He’s got this blond hair that’s softer than yours and a lip ring that drove me crazy from the second I opened the door and found him wrapped in righteousness and an American flag robe. His name is Steve and lives next door. He – “

Natasha cut him off. “He’s your neighbor? What was your neighbor doing at your door at three in the morning?”

“Well, I got off a little early last night and had a few drinks. Clint was mixing them and he was being a little heavy-handed and when I got home – “

“You were singing, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Can I continue, please? Thank you,” he said, rushing on before she could say anything else. “Anyway, he came over and knocked and, god, Nat, that lip ring. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. He had on this ridiculous robe and these purple and orange argyle socks. We made cookies and then made out on the sofa for, like, I don’t know an hour.”

“And you’ve never met him before? Well done, Jamie.”

“I’m seeing him tonight. He’s cooking,” he said.

“You found a guy who can cook? I might steal him. I’m getting tired of ramen,” she said.

“I’ll be sure to tell Clint. Go find your own. I wanna keep this one,” Bucky said. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, realizing what just came out of his mouth and to whom he said it.

“You’re in pretty deep for someone who probably doesn’t even know his date’s last name.”

“That’s…not…” He wished he could take back the words. Natasha was not the person to say something like that to, no matter how much he meant it. And mean it he did. He wanted to keep Steve around for as long as possible.

“Just be careful. You’ve been known to fall very hard, very fast, and for the worst possible guys. We don’t need another Rumlow situation,” Natasha said as gently as she could.

“Yeah, thanks, Red,” Bucky said softly. He didn’t like being reminded of that mess.

“Has he contacted you recently?” she asked.

“He still texts just about every day,” he admitted.

“You’ve got to get rid of him, Bucky,” she said seriously.

“He doesn’t hang around anymore. He just texts,” he said. The problem was that Brock Rumlow just didn’t seem to get it when someone told him to go to hell. At least he hadn’t come around since someone gave him hell a month ago.

Natasha’s silence could have meant anything but the disapproval was palpable even through the phone.

“I know, Nat. I know,” he muttered. “Hey, listen, come over. You can help me pick an outfit for tonight. I didn’t get that particular gay gene.”

Natasha huffed out a laugh. “I’ll be there in half an hour. See you soon, Jamie.”

“See ya, Red,” he said and hung up.

Bucky groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. Hauling himself out bed, he decided that he needed a cup of coffee if he was going to put up Natasha Romanoff this early in the day. He pulled on last night’s jeans, which were also from the night before that, rinsed his mouth with some mouthwash, and headed out the door.

***

Steve was locking his door when Bucky stepped out, looking rumpled and unfairly adorable in the same clothes he was wearing last night. No, this morning. He felt the blush rising on his cheeks and cursed his pale Irish hide for showing every damn emotion. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Hey, Stevie!” Bucky said, a smile instantly on his face.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said awkwardly.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, tilting his head and trying to catch Steve’s eye. Steve seemed off, unsure, nervous. Where was the kid who climbed onto his lap and kissed him as if his very life depended upon it?

“M’fine.” Steve was not fine. What was the protocol for making out with your neighbor at three in the morning and then running into him the hall? “Well, hey, I should go. I’m late for a meeting.” Steve turned to leave.

“We still on for dinner?” Bucky asked to the back of his head a little uncertainly.

“Sure, if you want,” Steve said over his shoulder. He needed to talk to Peggy, and not just about the design of her flyers. Besides, if he didn’t get away from those tempting lips, he’d end up embarrassing the both of them.

Bucky’s face fell. _What the hell…?_ This, here, is what Nat was talking about. Bucky was already too attached. They hadn’t even had a real date yet and here was Bucky, hurt way more than he had any right to be by rejection.

 “Hey, wait!” He jogged up beside Steve. “If _I_ want? Don’t you want to?”

 “I do, but… I’m sorry about last night,” Steve blurted.

“S…sorry? Sorry for what?” Bucky asked.

“Maybe we should just forget last night. I – ” Dammit, where was his inhaler? He could feel his chest tightening with the stress of this conversation.

“Hey, Stevie, breathe.” Bucky’s hand was on his back, rubbing gentle circles.

Steve found his inhaler in his pocket and used a quick puff, drawing it as deeply into his lungs as he could manage. When he felt the tightness easing, he nodded once.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, still rubbing Steve’s back.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He sighed. This wasn’t going well.

“Why are you sorry?” Bucky put an arm around Steve’s shoulders and guided him towards the elevator.

“I never do that sort of thing, kiss people I don’t know. I don’t want you thinking that I’m...” Steve trailed off. He would _not_ say something stupid. _He_ _wouldn’t_.

Bucky pulled his arm away. “Oh, hey, no. I mean, if you’d rather not…”

“No, I want to. Dinner, I mean. I want to have dinner with you.” His voice was steady and he only turned a little redder when he looked up.

“Good!” Bucky’s answering smile was his brightest yet and he put his arm back around Steve’s shoulders. “Hey, what if we start over?”

At Steve’s confused look, Bucky smiled and thrust his free hand at him. “I’m James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “Steve Rogers. Nice t’meet ya, Bucky.”

“I’m heading out for coffee, Steve Rogers. Wanna cup?”

“No, I can’t. I actually am late for a meeting. We never actually got around to discussing dinner last night. Do you, I mean, is there anything you want?” Steve asked.

“You’re cooking. Whatever you want,” Bucky said as the elevator door opened on the first floor.

“Pasta? I make really good meatballs,” Steve said, stepping out from under Bucky’s arm to exit the elevator.

“Can’t wait. See ya, Stevie,” Bucky said. On impulse, he dropped a kiss on Steve’s cheek before hurrying out the door.

***  
Steve made it to Fifth Avenue Dames in record time. He knew he probably shouldn’t have run, given the way his lungs were protesting, but that’s what his inhaler was for, right? He burst in the door and skidded to a stop in front of the counter.

“Steven Rogers, were you running?” Peggy asked.

Steve nodded, inhaling a second puff and holding it until his lungs weren’t quite so tight.

“Sorry, Pegs,” he said, swinging his bag off. “I couldn’t get the coloring right on the last piece I had to send in to Bruce. I’ve got your layout right here if y – ”

Peggy dragged him to the small love seat in front of the dressing room and sat down beside him, tucking one ankle behind the other. “Oh, I’m sure the layout is fine, Steve. Tell me about last night. Sam told me you went to give your neighbor a piece of your mind for waking you up for the third night in a row and were gone for almost two hours, _in the middle of the night_. What could you possibly have been doing for two hours in the middle of the night in what I can only assume was that awful dressing gown and a pair of lurid argyle socks?”

“I… I’m not having this conversation with you, Peggy.” Steve reached into his bag and pulled out his laptop.

“Oh, my god, Steve, please tell me you didn’t sleep with him already,” Peggy said, accepting the opened laptop.

“Of course I didn’t sleep with him. I…we…we kissed. Happy?” Steve was back to blushing.

“You hussy,” Peggy said, flipping between the two different designs Steve had created for her.

“I’m seeing him tonight, for dinner. I’m cooking, so please look at your flyer so I can send it off and run to the store.” Steve had never been adept at hiding anything from Peggy, so he knew that she knew that he was excited.

“I like the first one better. But you really like him, don’t you?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, Pegs, I really do,” he answered with a grin of his own.

***

Bucky found Natasha waiting in his apartment when he got back. “How the hell did you get in here?” he demanded, handing her a cup of black coffee and dropping a paper sack on the table.

“How can you possibly have the abs you have and put that much sugar in your coffee?” she asked instead of answering.

Bucky shrugged and dumped the twelfth packet of sugar into his cup. He reached into the bag and pulled out a chocolate chip scone. “Wanna scone?”

“No, seriously, why are you not a chunky monkey?” she demanded, taking the pastry. “Did you get injected with some sort of super-secret thing that makes you never gain weight? You better hope you never get diabetes.”

“Never gonna happen,” he said, cramming half the scone into his mouth.

“Ugh, that’s gross, Jamie,” she said, nibbling her own.

Bucky chewed, swallowed, and took a long drink of coffee. “I’ve only got, like, four hours to find the perfect outfit. Are you going to sit here and question the wonders of my metabolism, or are you going to help me?”

“I can do both. Besides, your couch is really comfortable. One day, you’ll come home and it’ll be missing and you won’t even know what hit you.” She stood and followed Bucky into his bedroom. “Really, Jamie, you need to at least make your bed, if not change your sheets once in a while.”

“It’s not going to go that far tonight. Maybe next time, but not tonight. He’s too good to fuck it up like that.” He opened his closet.

“You’ve got it really bad for him, don’t you?” she asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“He’s everything Rumlow wasn’t from the very beginning,” he said, pulling out a shirt and holding it up.

“No, not that. God why do you even keep that? Here. Move. I’ll pick the clothes. You sit here and be pretty.”

***

“Here, man, I got you something,” Sam said, tossing a bag on the table.

Steve, who was standing in the kitchen chopping onions, turned and glanced at it. “What is it?”

“Condoms,” Sam said with a grin.

“Ha. Ha. You’re a riot,” Steve deadpanned, dropping his knife to turn and look at his roommate.

“Oh, come on, man. You were gone for almost two hours last night. What the hell else could you have possibly been doing?” Sam sat down at the table and grabbed an apple.

“I didn’t sleep with him. We made cookies. And then I kissed him,” he said, turning back to the cutting board with as much nonchalance as he could manage.

“Hold up, hold up, hold up. _You_ kissed _him_? Not the other way around?” Sam’s apple hung from his fingers, forgotten.

“Yeah, so?” Steve asked, resuming his chopping.

“Cut the check! My little man’s growin’ up. I’m so proud!” Sam mock-sobbed.

“Shut up. You’re worse than Peggy. And thank you, by the way, for telling her. That wasn’t a mortifying conversation to have in the middle of her shop.” Steve tipped the onions into the bowl of ground beef and dumped his utensils in the sink. Grimacing at the thought of what he was about to do, he sunk his hands into the bowl and began working all the ingredients together.

“She makes me tell her everything, especially when it pertains to you. I’d be jealous that you’ve got my woman wrapped around your artistic little finger if it weren’t for knowing she’s so damn into me. But, uh, hey, just one thing,” Sam said, standing up and heading towards his bedroom with his apple.

“Yeah?” Steve asked over his shoulder.

“If you’re planning on working him over like you are that ground beef? Use what’s in the bag, okay?” He watched long enough for Steve to turn red yet again before he retreated to his bedroom, laughing all the way.

***

“Is that how you’re doing your hair?” Natasha asked as Bucky pulled on the shirt she’d picked out for him. She’d chosen his darkest-wash blue jeans, a long-sleeved white Henley, and then sent him to shower. She stepped up behind him to fuss with his still-damp hair.

“Apparently not,” he mused, bowing his head so she could artfully muss his wavy locks.

“Okay, there, perfect. No! Don’t touch!” She smacked his hand when he reached for his hair.

“Damn, Red, do you smack Barton around like that?” he asked.

“Only if he asks me to,” she said, stepping away to survey the results. “You look good, Jamie. Don’t touch your hair.”

“Thanks, Red. You’re the best.” He hugged her tightly. “Now get out before I have to explain why there’s a smokin’ hot red-head in my bedroom to the guy across the hall.”

“I mean what I say, Jamie. Don’t get in too deep too fast. Don’t let him hurt you like Rumlow did. And Alex Pierce, for that matter,” she warned.

“I won’t. I don’t think this guy’s capable of that.” He followed her to the door and leaned in the jamb when she opened it to leave.

“I’ll trust you one last time, but if you get hurt, I’m not letting you date anyone until I’ve run a full background check and have references.”

Bucky smiled, though knew she was serious. He didn’t know how she did it, where she got her information from, but he was willing to be that she already knew more about Steve than he did, and that’s the only reason she wasn’t fighting him on this.

“When’s his birthday, Red?” he asked.

“July 4th,” she said as she sauntered away.

“How the hell does she do that?” he wondered, watching her get into the elevator. He knew she wasn’t making that up, either.

He was half-turned back into his apartment when Steve’s door opened. Bucky stopped, staring at him. He wore a dark blue checked button-down open over a plain, white, tucked-in t-shirt and red suspenders, a pair of black skinny jeans that looked as though they’d been painted on, and black boots. Damn, he looked good.

“Don’t forget the bag!” his roommate called.

“Fuck you, Sam,” Steve muttered to himself, juggling a large mixing bowl and a canvas bag that looked ready to burst. He glanced up and found Bucky watching him.

“Need a hand there, Stevie?” he asked amusedly while reaching for the bowl.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve pulled the door closed firmly behind him, cutting off the chuckling from inside his apartment.

“What bag?” Bucky asked, leading the way into his kitchen.

“Nothing. Never mind. He’s an asshole. A well-meaning asshole, but an asshole nonetheless,” Steve said as he washed his hands and began emptying the bag he did have. He pulled an apron on over his shirt and tied it around his waist. “Do you have a frying pan, like a big one?”

“Yep. What else do you need? Do you want a beer?” Bucky stepped around him and pulled a large, cast-iron pan from one of the cupboards.

“No, thanks. Not right now. Maybe later. We need something to cook the pasta in, though” Steve said, stepping aside so that Bucky could put the pan on the stovetop.

They moved around each other like they’d been doing it for years, Bucky filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove, Steve doing what little prep was needed before he could start shaping the meatballs. Both noticed the easy with which they moved around each other.

“Should I turn this on?” Bucky asked, nodding to the water.

“No, not yet. Wash your hands, though. I need help.” Steve slipped around him and quickly but thoroughly washed his own hands and dried them on his apron. “I just need a plate or something to put the meatballs on, now.”

Bucky washed his hands, grabbed a plate, and stepped up beside Steve, smiling at him. “So what am I doing?”

Steve sat the bowl between the two of them and pinched off a bit of the beef mixture. “Okay, so, this much. Don’t make them too big. Just roll them like this,” Steve said, quickly shaping a meatball and setting it aside on the plate Bucky provided

“You want me to handle your balls, Stevie?” Bucky asked innocently.

“Yeah, just like this, an- ” It took a moment, but it finally it him, what Bucky said, and he turned redder than the tomatoes sitting on the counter.

Bucky threw his head back, laughing.

“You’re a jerk,” Steve said, his lips quirking.

“Whatever, punk,” Bucky said, forming a meatball. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good. We may have to do this in two batches. I always make too much when I do this,” he said.

“This is really gross,” Bucky said, dropping another one onto the plate. “I used to seeing my food cooked and not so…mushy.”

“I could…I don’t know. I could teach you to cook,” Steve offered, determinedly not looking up at Bucky.

“You tryin’ to get into my kitchen, Stevie?” Bucky asked, bumping him with his elbow.

“Maybe I am,” Steve said with a small smile.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the pile of meatballs growing until they were all formed. Steve washed his hands again and turned on the stove to heat the frying pan.

“Anything I can do?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, I forgot. There’s Romano cheese in the bag. Can you put it in the fridge? And maybe chop some vegetables for a salad while I watch these?” Steve asked, adding meatballs to the pan. “There’s lettuce and stuff. Can you seed the tomatoes?”

Bucky wiped down the island with a Clorox wipe, then grabbed a knife and flipped it, catching it easily by the hilt.

“Whoa. Where did you learn to do that?” Steve asked. “It’s kinda hot.” _Oh, god, did I just say that?_ he wondered, feeling the damned blush creeping up his neck again.

“Is it now?” He flipped it again. “I learned to flip bottles at work, and decided to move onto other things,” he grinned, grabbing a tomato and slicing it in half. “Did you tell me to seed it? How do I do that?”

“Scoop the seeds out,” Steve said, turning back to the pan.

He watched as furtively as he could while Bucky inexpertly chopped tomatoes and mangled an onion, humming a catchy-sounding tune in a much better voice than the one he used for ‘Call Me Maybe’.

“For someone who can flip the hell out of a knife, you’re terrible at wielding it. Here, let me help.” Steve took his hand and guided him through chopping up a pepper. “What are you humming?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” Bucky said airily. _Shit, of all the things…_ Bucky found that, since waking that morning, he’d been muttering the words to “Steve” by Jeremy Messersmith off and on, under his breath. Natasha had even caught him at it, smirking her trademark ‘I know what you’re doing’ smirk before making him change yet again.

“Whatever _nothing_ is, I like it,” Steve said, turning back to the stove.

“I like _you_ ,” Bucky said, catching his hand.

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, followed swiftly by a delicate blush, because apparently someone somewhere loved watching him squirm. “I like you, too, Buck,” he muttered.

Bucky tugged his hand and Steve came closer. “I like you a lot,” he said.

“Yeah? How much?” Steve asked.

Bucky leaned in close, his lips a scant inch away from Steve’s. “A whole lot,” he said again before pressing his lips to Steve’s. It took everything he had not to moan. That lip ring drove him crazy, as did the way Steve immediately moved into the kiss, tucking his body against Bucky’s in the most delicious way.

Steve wasn’t sure what possessed him to kiss Bucky in the first place, but damn, he was glad he’d done it. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and ran his hands up his back, enjoying the way the muscles moved as Bucky wound his arms around Steve’s skinny shoulders.

At the touch of Steve’s tongue, Bucky met him eagerly. God, he could kiss him for hours and never tire of it. He took his time, slowly licking into Steve’s mouth and, finally, after spending all day regretting never having done it last night, he nipped gently at the little gold hoop at the corner of his mouth.

Steve groaned into the kiss. No one had ever done that before, and he had no idea what it would do to him. He’d never really given anyone the opportunity, to be honest. He ran a hand down Bucky’s back, grabbing gently at Bucky’s bum.

“Mm,” Bucky hummed, pressing his hips against Steve’s. “Probably shouldn’t get too carried away. The stove’s on.”

“Oh, hell,” Steve said, pulling away. He turned back to the stove and immediately missed the warmth of Bucky’s arms. Everything about this was moving too fast and nowhere near fast enough. He wondered for a moment if he should have brought the bag Sam gave him, but then dismissed it. That wouldn’t happen tonight. That _was_ too fast. “We should probably keep our hands to ourselves until we’re done cooking.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bucky asked, slipping his hands around Steve’s waist. “Jesus, you’re tiny. I can almost wrap my hands the whole way around you. I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, it’s kinda hot.” He rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, nosing at his ear.

Bucky’s phone went off, the music from the shower scene from Psycho blaring. He rolled his eyes and sent it to voicemail, watching as Steve moved around his kitchen. It felt normal, like he belonged there. He wanted desperately to turn off the stove, lead Steve to his bed, and strip him out of those outrageously tight skinny jeans. He -

His phone started wailing, shrill violins screeching.

“Do you need to get that? I can, I don’t know, go to the bathroom or something,” Steve offered.

“Nah, its fine, I’ll mute it.” He flipped the little switch and stuffed it back in his pocket. _Not tonight, Brock_ , he thought firmly.

“The meatballs need to simmer in the sauce for a while before we start the pasta.” He turned to find Bucky watching him again.

“C’mere,” Bucky said. He held his hand out.

Steve took it, and allowed himself to be pulled over to the sofa. Bucky sat down, still holding onto his hand as though he would run for the door the moment he was released.

“You look really good tonight, Buck,” he said, stepping into the space between Bucky’s knees. “I like this shirt.”

“Yeah? I like these.” Bucky hooked his fingers into the belt loops at the front of Steve’s jeans. “I like how they make your ass look like I could bounce a quarter off of it.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’d probably bruise it if you tried.”

“Mm, don’t wanna do that.” Bucky tugged on the belt loops he still had his fingers hooked around and Steve went willingly, settling over Bucky’s lap, knees bracketing his hips. He untied the apron and lifted it off of Steve’s neck.

“What are we doing?” Bucky asked as Steve’s lips began to coast along the line of his jaw.

“I believe the term is ‘making out’, or, if you prefer, ‘boxing tonsils’. My personal favorite, though, is ‘snogging’,” Steve said, his lips never leaving Bucky’s skin.

Bucky laughed as he cupped Steve’s jaw and brought their mouths together. He finally let go of Steve’s belt loops in favor of cupping the particular part of Steve’s anatomy he’d been praising.

Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s sides, desperately wanting to feel bare skin. He found the hem of his shirt and ran one finger under it, teasing low on his stomach. He was about to push the shirt up and out of his way when he felt a vibrating coming from Bucky’s pocket.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t get that? That’s the third time.” He sat back on Bucky’s knees so he could fish his phone from his pocket.

“No, I don’t need to get it. He’s not important,” Bucky said, flinging his phone to the other end of the couch before grabbing Steve around the waist again.

“Who is _he_?” Steve asked, pressing both hands against Bucky’s chest. He sat back, eyebrows drawn. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” He moved to stand. It hit him then that he really had no idea who Bucky was, or if he was seeing someone, or –

“No. Steve, no.” Bucky grabbed him, holding him on his lap.

“So who is _he_?”

 _“He_ is my ex,” Bucky sighed and let his head tip back onto the couch, eyes closed. “He just doesn’t know when to quit. I ended things with him a month ago and he won’t stop calling. He showed up here once and when I wouldn’t let him in the building, he made a scene and someone ended up going out and told him to leave. I don’t even know who it was. I didn’t want to go near the window and let him see that I was home.”

“ _That’s_ your ex? That big guy who woke up half the building?” Steve demanded.

“Don’t tell me you’re the one who went out and chased him off,” Bucky asked, cracking an eyelid and looking up at Steve skeptically.

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve said distastefully.

“Brock is one of those,” Bucky said, opening both eyes and looking up at Steve. “But you’re a whole different story. C’mere.”

“Wait, so he’s out of the picture?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Promise. Now, c’mere,” Bucky said, pulling Steve flush against his chest.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Steve said, tilting his chin up to give Bucky access to his throat.

“You don’t seem like you’re having any trouble,” Bucky replied as he nibbled his way down to his collar bone.

“No, not this. I meant - ” Steve broke off as Bucky found a sensitive spot behind his ear. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I meant exes.”

Bucky pulled back a little and grinned up at Steve. “I don’t want to talk about exes. I wanna kiss you, and touch you, and maybe, much, much later, we’ll eat dinner.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin back and nod, sinking his hands into Bucky’s artfully mussed hair. “Yeah…”

“Yeah? God, that lip ring drives me insane,” Bucky said against his lips.

Steve kissed his way down to Bucky’s jaw, gripping his hair and tilting his head to get to the side of his neck. The heady mix of the taste of his skin and that whiskey-dark chocolate-cinnamon scent were nearly overwhelming as he nipped Bucky’s ear and worried the spot with his tongue. He wasn’t bold like this, not when it came to his sex life. Then again, he’d never felt the way he did with Bucky. Steve was nothing if not pragmatic. He knew that this sort of thing didn’t really happen in real life. Whatever this was between them, it was strange but compelling. Strange, maybe, but there nonetheless and to ignore it, to not allow it to happen, that just felt…wrong.

One date – no, not even one date; they hadn’t even had dinner yet, and Bucky was convinced that he’d found what he’d been missing with Brock, and with Alex, and every other guy he’d dated. He could hear Natasha’s warnings in his head, _don’t get in too deep, don’t fall too fast._

 _Too late for that, Red,_ he thought, seeing stars when Steve sucked a kiss behind his ear that would probably result in an impressive hickey. Bucky was merely hanging on for the ride, his hands roaming over Steve’s back and ribs and thighs while giving Steve the reins as he did the night before. He parted his lips when Steve brought their mouths together again, meeting his tongue when he licked into Bucky’s mouth.

They spent a long time exploring each other. At some point, Steve moved off of Bucky’s lap and tugged Bucky down on top of him, fitting their hips together.

“Wanna feel you,” Steve said, running his hands under Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky gasped sharply the feel of Steve’s cool, nimble fingers on his back. He tore his mouth from Steve’s, working his lips down over Steve’s neck. “Jesus, Stevie,” he murmured.

Steve ghosted his fingers up Bucky’s spine, smiling when Bucky shivered. He was more than accommodating when Bucky began placing soft kisses along his jaw, and when he found his shirt being tugged up out of the waistband of his jeans, he shifted to give him room. He arched up into the touch when Bucky’s thumb ran over his hipbone, grinding their hips together and making them moan into each other’s mouths.

Steve reached for the hem of Bucky’s shirt and started to drag it up when the sofa began vibrating under his head. He made an inquisitive sound in the back of his throat and reluctantly moved his hands from Bucky’s warm back to find the source of the vibrating. He came up with Bucky’s phone and handed it to him.

Bucky looked at the screen, annoyed. “Dammit, Rumlow. Fuck. Off,” he growled.

“Give it to me. No, I’m serious. Give it to me,” Steve said, holding his hand out expectantly when Bucky looked dubious. He rolled his eyes and took the phone, swiping to answer it.

“Hello? No, this isn’t James. I don’t know anyone named James. You’ve been calling all evening. I don’t care if you want James. This is my number. Stop calling.” He ended the call and looked up to find Bucky sitting back on his heels, looking at him like he’d done something incredible. “What?”

Bucky lunged forward, kissing him hard before pulling back and running his hands through Steve’s hair. “Thank you. It won’t work for long, and he’ll probably end up showing up here again, but thank you.”

“What the hell did he do to you, Buck?” Steve asked. He nudged Bucky until he could sit up, but wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist so he couldn’t go far and nuzzled at his chest.

“Nothing too bad,” Bucky said into his hair. He felt Steve tense up and ran his hands down his back in an attempt to calm him. “No, seriously, he didn’t hit me or anything.”

“What did he do, then?” Steve asked, settling his head over Bucky’s heart.

“He was controlling, went through my phone, cheated. He was a shitty boyfriend and I put up with it for way too long. And he doesn’t believe me when I say it’s over.” He carded his hand through Steve’s hair.

“You need me to beat him up for you?” Steve asked, grinning up at him.

“You would, too, wouldn’t you? But, let’s eat dinner first, okay? It smells really good.”

“Yeah. Come on, let me up. I’ll go salt the water,” Steve said, wiggling under Bucky.

“Mmm, on second thought, maybe I don’t want to get up just yet,” Bucky said, pressing Steve backwards.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve laughed, giving no resistance. “I thought you wanted my balls.” He laughed harder when Bucky’s jaw sagged, a glint in his eye, and slithered out from under him.

Bucky followed him into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the sauce and meatballs. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“My ma was always cooking. She said it was important that an adult be able to feed himself more than just ramen. She taught me before she died.”

“Do you cook like this often?” Bucky asked, popping a slice of tomato in his mouth.

“Just about every day. I swear that’s about 75% of the reason Sam sticks around with me.” Steve covered the water for the pasta and turned around, watching as Bucky slipped around slice of tomato between his lips.

“Do you actually eat any of it, or do you just feed your roommate?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s cheeks turned pink and he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Nah, I eat it. It just doesn’t stick on me. I get sick a lot. I’ve always been kinda puny.”

“Hey, don’t do that. If I wasn’t attracted to you, we wouldn’t have been…what did you call it, tonsil boxing?” Bucky said, stepping into Steve’s space. He backed him up against the counter and wrapped his hands around Steve’s waist again. He leaned down and put his lips against the shell of Steve’s ear. “Besides, we were damn close to going a lot further than either of us is ready for, and you were sitting on my lap. Just because you’re not a big guy, doesn’t mean you’re not a big guy.” He punctuated the statement by nipping his earlobe.

Steve felt the blush rise from somewhere around his navel, but he tilted his head to give Bucky more room, nonetheless.

Bucky backed off reluctantly. “We’re gonna burn dinner,” he said softly.

“Yeah. Can you set the table?” Steve asked, lifting the lid to check on the water. It was steaming, but not quite boiling hard enough yet.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to know which fork goes where, or that there will be more than one fork, for that matter,” Bucky joked.

“If you can’t set a table properly, I can’t see you,” Steve said, stirring the sauce.

“Is it a deal-breaker?” Bucky cleared off the island and wiped it down with another Clorox wipe. He pulled down plates and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge.

“It really is. Sorry. I’m taking my balls and I’m heading home.” Steve dumped the pasta into the now-boiling water and turned to watch Bucky.

“Well, I mean, you could always give me a second chance. I’m pretty sure I could persuade you to keep your balls right here.” He swooped in and kissed Steve again. And again. And once more, just for good measure. It was addicting, the way Steve immediately responded, resting his hands on Bucky’s hips and kissing back like it was his mission.

“We’re really going to end up burning dinner if we don’t keep our hands to ourselves. Serve the salad? This will be ready in about five minutes. Oh, I need something to drain this in. Where…?” Steve asked.

“Bottom cupboard, on your left,” Bucky said, putting salad on two small plates. He watched as Steve drained the pasta and dumped it back into the pot. “Aren’t you going to rinse it?”

Steve looked scandalized. “ _Rinse_ it? You don’t _rinse_ it! The sauce won’t stick. And while we’re at it, the sauce does not sit on top of the pasta.”

“That’s how they always do it at Olive Garden.”

“I think I’m actually offended that you think I’d serve you chain restaurant quality pasta,” Steve said, pouring the sauce over the pasta. “You mix it, but save a little for presentation.”

He went to the fridge and pulled out the Romano cheese, and grabbed the cheese grater he’d brought from the bag. “Here, gimme your plate.” 

Bucky handed his plate over and watched as Steve put pasta and three meatballs on the plate, then topped it with more sauce. He grated cheese over it, and placed it in front of Bucky with a flourish. He waited until Steve sat down with his own plate before cutting into a meatball. He closed his eyes and moaned loudly.

“Stevie, oh my god, I’ve had a lot of balls in my mouth in my time, but this is by far the best,” he said.

Steve snorted, twirling up a bit of spaghetti. “Thanks, Buck.”

They ate in relative silence, the only sounds coming from Bucky as he worked his way through all three meatballs before even touching his spaghetti.

“So, where did you grow up?” Bucky eventually asked.

“Right here in Brooklyn, you?”

“I thought so. The accent is still there. Me, too. I left for a few years for college, but I couldn’t stay away.” He speared a bit of salad.

“What was your major?” Steve asked, sipping at his beer.

“Russian lit. I was always really good at languages, and Russian literature is fascinating. Unfortunately, there’s even less of a call for Russian lit majors than there are English lit majors, so I’m bartending until I find something better. You?” Bucky went to the fridge while he talked and grabbed two more bottles of beer. He popped them open and sat them in the middle of the table.

“I’m a graphic designer. I only ever really have to go into my office for meetings, and I can set my own schedule. I was a real sick kid, so I spent a lot of time at home in bed, drawing. I still get sick a lot, like I said, so a job where I can work from home and set my own hours is kinda necessary.”

“What’s wrong, if you don’t mind me asking?” Bucky twirled the last bit of spaghetti onto his fork. He was ridiculously full, but it was just so good. He should cook next time, if he could figure out how to do more than bake cookies with his oven.

“Asthma, a congenital heart defect, a weak immune system… A whole mess of stuff,” Steve said, finishing the last of his salad.

“Jesus, Stevie, do I need to put you in a bubble?” Bucky grinned across the island.

“It’s a lot better now. I ended up being home schooled my senior year of high school, after the surgery. Now, I just can’t really go out in the cold. I end up sick or with an asthma attack. That’s why I was wearing what I was wearing last night. I can’t stand the cold.” Steve moved to put his plate in the sink.

“I liked those socks. They were hideous. Hey. Nope. You cooked. I’ll clean it up,” Bucky said. He began spooning leftovers into a container.

“Let me at least help load the dishwasher,” Steve argued, rinsing off their plates.

They cleaned up quickly and moved back to the sofa.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Bucky asked. In truth, he didn’t feel like doing much of anything but curling around Steve and falling asleep.

“Sure, it’s still early. What do you have?”

Bucky gestured toward the bookshelves next to his entertainment center. One was packed with books, some in English, but most in just about every other language Steve could imagine. The other was just as stuffed, but with dvds and blu-rays. They were arranged alphabetically according to title. Steve perused for a moment before shrugging and settling on his favorite. Hey, if he was on a date, he was damn well picking something romantic.

“ _Casablanca_?” Bucky asked.

“Do you mind? It’s one of my favorites,” Steve said, ducking his head.

“No, it’s one of my favorites, too. Sit down. Get comfortable,” Bucky said, plucking the blu-ray from Steve’s hand and kneeling in front of the entertainment center.

Steve sat down on the sofa, and when Bucky sat down, remote in hand, Steve immediately curled against his side. He tucked one arm into his body, but slid the other across Bucky’s stomach.

Bucky dropped his left arm over Steve’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb lightly against the soft sleeve of Steve’s shirt as the movie started. By the time the patrons of Rick’s bar stood up to sing _Les Marseillais_ , he had pulled Steve onto his lap and they were wrapped in a blanket.

“Did you know that they tried for years to get _Casablanca 2_ off the ground?” Steve asked sleepily as the credits rolled.

“No, baby, I didn’t,” Bucky said against Steve’s neck.

“Never gonna happen. No one wants to see Channing Tatum trying to be Rick,” he muttered, tipping his mouth up to capture Bucky’s in a light, teasing kiss. He allowed himself to get a little lost in exploring Bucky’s mouth, but pulled away when a yawn threatened to burst out. “I should probably go. It’s late.”

“No. Come on. Let’s watch another movie. You can’t leave yet,” Bucky said, snuggling back against the sofa and taking Steve with him.

“Okay. One more. You pick. I’m going to use your bathroom,” Steve said, standing up and shivering slightly.

“Through the bedroom,” Bucky said, moving to pick out a new movie.

When Steve came back, Bucky was already back on the couch. He lifted the blanket invitingly and Steve wasted no time curling up against Bucky’s chest. They sat wrapped up together, drowsily watching as Gene Kelly danced in the rain and Donald O’Connor made ‘em laugh.

Steve woke up as the disc changed back to the main menu. “Buck, wake up. Hey, Bucky,” he said, shaking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hmm? Whaswrong?” Bucky asked sleepily.

“Nothing. I’m gonna go. It’s late and we both fell asleep.” Steve moved to stand.

“Can I see you tomorrow? I work but maybe before? I’ll take you to lunch?” Bucky asked, threading their fingers together.

“Yeah, lunch sounds good. Come over around 2? I should be able to finish everything I’m supposed to have done by then.” Steve pressed a kiss to his temple and stood.

Bucky followed him to the door, leaning heavily on the jamb. “I had a real good time tonight, Stevie.”

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Steve said.  One last, lingering kiss, and Steve was heading back to his apartment.

“Woo, someone’s home late. How’d it go?” Sam demanded, popping up from the sofa like a jack-in-the-box.

“Did you wait up for me?” Steve demanded.

“You know I did. So, what happened? Did you two crazy kids kiss? Was there a little lobster linguistics goin’ on? Did you give him a ride to osculation station? Was there some tongue sushi?” Sam was practically dancing, he was enjoying teasing Steve so much.

Steve turned bright red, wishing like hell he wasn’t giving Sam exactly what he wanted.

“You diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid! Good for you, son. Git you some! No, wait, you didn’t sleep with him, did you? You left your condoms here,” Sam said, the grin on his face threatening to split it in two.

“Shut up, Sam. We had dinner and watch a couple movies. Anything else is between us. I’m going to bed. Goodnight,” Steve said to the floor. He turned on his heel and stalked to his bedroom, being sure to shut the door firmly against Sam’s peals of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at britishcheekbonessociety and cry over these two big babies.


	3. Best Friends, Burgers, and Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Buck,” Steve said, cursing himself for allowing it to come out a little breathily.  
> “You ready?”  
> “Yep. Bye,” Steve said, halfway out the door.  
> “Nope. Hold up. What are your intentions with Stevie, here?” Sam asked, grabbing the door as Steve tried to pull it closed.  
> Steve wanted to melt into the floor. He wasn’t sure if he’d survive this. As it was, he was concerned that his face was actually glowing with embarrassment.  
> Bucky turned and smirked, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Nothing virtuous, I assure you. Bucky Barnes,” he said, thrusting his free hand out.  
> “Good. He needs a bit of corruption. Sam Wilson. And this is Peggy Carter,” Sam said, shaking his hand firmly and gesturing to Peggy.  
> “Nice to meet ya. Do I need to have him back by a certain time?” Bucky asked, looking down at Steve and enjoying his discomfiture enough that he almost felt bad teasing him.  
> “Nope. Thursday, for all I care. Have fun, Steve. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Sam said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, thanks for reading! I'm having a blast writing this and it wouldn't be what it is without my perfect beta, TheMeaningOfHaste. I switched the rating from 'not rated' to 'explicit' simply because it's going to end up that way. I do want to let you guys know that I will be taking a TINY break from this until I get three 1000 word shorts done for a contest that has absolutely nothing to do with Stucky, but I'll be back as soon as those are done.

Once again, Steve woke up later than he’d planned. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep.  He couldn’t stop replaying the date over and over in his mind, wishing he was still with Bucky. He was comfortable with Bucky, felt like he could maybe let down his walls a little, and that was a scary. Steve wasn’t good at that.

He slept in the t-shirt he’d been wearing that evening because he could still smell Bucky’s whiskey-dark chocolate-cinnamon scent and oh, god, he was so screwed. Or, actually, no, he wasn’t, and hadn’t been in a very, very long time.  Not since Tony, but that was such an unmitigated disaster that neither of them even acknowledged it anymore.

Steve honestly wondered sometimes if that part of his life wasn’t over before it had ever really begun. He had trouble moving past the scar that divided his chest, didn’t like that he could count his ribs, or the way every joint was knobby, so who else would be able to get past it?

The obvious answer, insofar as his skinniness and sharp angles were concerned anyway, was Bucky. It didn’t seem to deter him. In fact, he was more than content to pull Steve into his lap and touch him, and have Steve’s hands on him in return. He even told him that he liked how small he was, wrapping his hands around Steve’s waist and telling him it was ‘kinda hot’. Obviously the scar was another matter, but Steve got the feeling that he wouldn’t judge him for it. After all, it wasn’t like Steve asked for it, any more than Bucky asked for the extensive scarring on his arm. But then, he’d taken the damage and turned it into something beautiful.

Steve met many different times with many different artists hoping to have it covered, but no one wanted to touch it. He understood. The scar tissue was thick and gnarled from an infection, but that didn’t mean that there was nothing that could be done. Maybe he’d set up an appointment with the friend who did Bucky’s tattoo.

These thoughts kept him in bed another twenty minutes. If he didn’t get up now, he’d regret it. He had work to do before two, when Bucky would be taking him to lunch. He sighed and dragged himself out of bed, once again thankful for his warm woolen socks. Grabbing his towel off of the back of his door, he padded out into the hallway.

“Did you just wake up? I thought you came home around midnight. Did you sneak back to Bucky’s last night?” Sam asked from the sofa.

“Shut up,” Steve grumbled.

“Oh, come now, Steve, tell us how it went,” Peggy said, lifting her head from Sam’s chest.

“It went fine. We had dinner and watched a couple of movies. We’re having lunch in a few hours and I’d really like to grab a shower first,” Steve said, shuffling toward the bathroom.

“They also kiiiiiissed,” Sam said, making smooching noises at Steve’s retreating form.

“Steve, you scoundrel. When do we get to meet him?” Peggy asked.

“We live across the hall. I’ll go knock on his door right now,” Sam said decisively. He grabbed Peggy around the waist and started to dislodge her from where she was tangled up with him watching television.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, pushing him back down. “Don’t tease him. Steve, I won’t allow him to do anything rash until you’ve finished with your shower. After that, he’s your responsibility.”

Steve gave Sam’s cheekily grinning face one last dirty look before going into the bathroom. He turned the water on, glad that the water heater worked so well, and stripped off his clothes. He tossed his t-shirt into the laundry with only the slightest pang of regret. If he played his cards right, maybe more of his shirts would smell like Bucky.

_Oh, God, Rogers, you got it so bad_ , he thought.

Stepping under the hot spray, he immediately relaxed. He leaned one arm against the tiles, slumped forward, closed his eyes, and allowed the stinging spray to soak into his shoulders. He let his mind to wander, thoughts turning almost immediately to Bucky. He wondered if he was awake yet, what he was doing. Had he cooked breakfast or went out? He said he was a mess in the kitchen, so he probably ran to the coffee shop down the street.

He wondered what Bucky looked like, just waking up. Probably a rumpled, sexy messy. He could all too easily imagine his mussed hair and the slow, sleepy smile he would turn on Steve when he realized that he was waking up next to him. Hell, he could even hear the sleep-roughened tone when he murmured ‘hi’, which Steve would return.

Steve’s hand twitched. Was it weird to jerk off to your neighbor that you may or may not end up dating? Hell, maybe Bucky had already done this. It was with that thought that he reached down, almost surprised to find himself more than half-hard. He sucked in a breath of steamy air and took his dick in his hand.

It took almost no effort at all to once again imagine himself in Bucky’s bed with Bucky lying next to him, his shirt already off, tattoo on display for Steve to admire. The glimpse he had of Bucky’s chest and shoulder when he showed off his tattoo that first night was ingrained in Steve’s mind. He would roll Bucky on top of him, lick inside his mouth and savor the taste. Bucky would run his hands up Steve’s sides, taking his shirt with him. In his fantasy, Bucky wasn’t disgusted by his scar, didn’t even seem to notice as it as Steve shucked his shirt off. Bucky would smile at him before leaning down, settling his hips to Steve’s and grinding against him.

Steve stroked himself lightly and slowly, only exerting more pressure when he reached the head. He squeezed a little tighter, teased the tip with his thumb before working his hand back down to the base.

He imagined Bucky kissing along his jaw, his throat. Steve would turn his head, grabbing Bucky’s ear between his teeth, nipping lightly before worrying the sting away with the tip of his tongue. He wanted to hear that sound again, the one Bucky made that first night. It caught in the back of his throat, as though he was trying to swallow it but wasn’t quite able to. It drove Steve crazy, replaying in his mind and making him desperate to hear it again.

His hand sped up at the thought of that sound, his touch no longer lingering and slow but faster, rougher. In his mind, Bucky was moving down his body, sucking teasingly at his nipples before ghosting his mouth over Steve’s prominent ribs and concave stomach, and then nipping at the skin over his hipbones.

Steve was panting, hips stuttering against his hand as he pictured Bucky dragging his boxers down, kissing every inch of thigh he exposed until Steve’s cock sprang out, rock hard, the tip wet with precome. He imagined Bucky looking up at him through his lashes as he ran his tongue over the underside of his dick.

“Oh, God, Buck…” Steve whimpered softly, the sound almost swallowed by the sound of the water. He was getting close, definitely past the point of caring if he was heard. All he cared about was the image in his head of Bucky grinning like he was being offered the best damn dessert in the world before sucking Steve into his mouth and moaning around him.

Steve tightened his grip a little more, twisting his wrist at the head, flicking his thumb over the leaking slit. “Mmm… Fuck, yes…” he murmured. He could see Bucky in his mind’s eye glance up at him, thought of how good it would feel, having Bucky hollow his cheeks and suck harder, having his hands cupping Steve’s sac as he sucked.

Steve’s hand moved faster, rougher, and suddenly he was there, he was coming, and it was with Bucky’s name on his lips. He leaned against the shower wall, shaking, legs barely keeping him upright. He squeezed his eyes closed, gasping for breath and wondering if he should feel guilty. He couldn’t bring himself to, in any case. It had been a long time since he’d been attracted enough to someone that he even entertained the idea of sex.

When he stopped shaking, he blew out a breath, pushed himself off of the wall of the shower, and reached for his shampoo.

***

Bucky finally gave up trying to get any more sleep around eight in the morning. He would have to try to take a nap later if he expected to be any use at work. Maybe he could convince Steve to lie down with him after their date if he promised to keep it chaste. He snorted, grabbing a pillow and covering his face. Like that would be a possibility if he got Steve into bed.

He could see Steve’s face hovering over him, his lip ring catching the light and looking delicious. Fuck it, he thought, sliding a hand down over his stomach and under the waistband of his boxers. The thought of Steve’s mouth, and how that little gold hoop, might feel against his cock made him shudder. He took himself in hand, wondering if Steve jerked off thinking about him, and wondering if he should be _this_ turned on by thinking about it.

And just like that, his phone went off. Again. The shower scene music from Psycho blared loudly in the morning silence. He ignored it again, but the heat that had been pooling in his stomach at the thought of Steve’s piercing had cooled into a ball of frustration.

He got out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, tied his trainers, slipped his keys and wallet into his pocket, and headed out for a run. Not that he wanted to, god no, but maybe a long run would help clear his head. And if he stopped off for coffee and a cinnamon bun the size of his face afterwards, well, that’s called a reward and if he ran as long as he planned to, he damn well deserved it.

An hour and a half later, sweaty, calves burning, but proud that he lasted as long as he had, he held his cinnamon bun in a bag between his teeth and fished his keys out of his pocket. His intercom was buzzing when he opened the door and he almost spilled his coffee trying to get to it.

“Yeah, yeah, it can’t be that damned important,” he groused as he pressed the button. “Can I help you?”

“Barnes, let me in. Nat’s here, too, and she plans on breaking in if you don’t let us in, like, now,” a voice demanded.

“She’s allowed in. You’re not, Barton. Last time you were here, you ate all my cookies,” Bucky said with a grin.

“Let us in, Jamie. I have coffee and pastries,” Natasha said.

“Bribes? I’d be insulted if I had any shame. Come on up,” he said, pressing the button to allow his visitors entrance. He left the door unlocked and went into his bedroom to take a quick shower, trusting that his friends would make themselves at home.

When he came out a few minutes later, drying his hair and wearing clean pajama pants and a t-shirt, Natasha and Clint were sitting on his sofa, sipping coffee and scrolling through the Netflix app on his television.

“He already had coffee and a cinnamon roll. Why did I have to get him more coffee?” Clint whined. “I also had to cover my own shift last night. Barnes, you owe me.”

“Get your feet off of my coffee table. I don’t know where they’ve been, Old McBarton,” Bucky said, stepping over Clint’s outstretched legs to pick up his coffee and treat.

“There’s more on your island if you’re still hungry. How was your date?” Natasha asked.

“Yes, how was your date that you insisted on having rather than working for your best friend?” Clint asked.

“You’re not his best friend, I am. And take your feet off the table and drink your coffee. You’re off this weekend, and we have plans that involve your old bedroom and a blow job, so quit complaining. How was your date?” she asked again.

“It was good,” Bucky said, settling into his arm chair and pulling his breakfast out of the bag. It really was as big as his face. He took a big bite, moaning as the buttery bun practically melted in his mouth.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked, one eyebrow winging upward.

He took his time answering, frankly more interested in his treat than the conversation at the moment. “He cooked dinner, we talked, watched a couple movies, and fell asleep on the couch,” he said casually, trying desperately hard to not let Natasha see just how much he’d enjoyed himself.

“You slept with him,” she said evenly.

“No, I fell asleep with him. There’s a difference. We were watching a movie and we fell asleep. It was totally innocent.” He sipped his coffee. _Play it cool, Buck. She can’t make you tell her anything you don’t want to_. Unfortunately, his troll brain chose that moment to remember that it was Steve that called him ‘Buck’, and a goofy smile fought to burst out on his face that even Clint noticed.

“Oh, god, he’s doing it again, isn’t he?” Clint asked.

“Yep,” Natasha said with a sigh.

Bucky chewed and swallowed the last bite of his cinnamon roll, rolling his eyes. “Relax, guys, this is nothing like the last two times. Steve’s different. I don’t think he has a disingenuous bone in his body.”

“You thought Rumlow was different from Pierce,” Natasha said.

“To be fair, Rumlow never tried to steal his identity,” Clint said.

“Okay, okay thank you. I needed a rundown of my failed relationships at 11 in the morning after I didn’t sleep,” Bucky grumbled, getting up to see what was in the bag that they brought with them. He found three cronuts, as well as a scone and an assortment of macaroons.

“What are you two trying to bribe me for?” he demanded, shoving a macaroon into his mouth before bringing the bag back to the chair with him.

“We don’t want anything at the moment, but it never hurts to butter you up. Why didn’t you sleep?” Natasha asked, turning her full attention to him.

_Disconcerting much?_ Bucky thought. He pulled out a cronut and bit into it, trying to ignore Nat’s stare. Of course, he couldn’t. “Yeah, okay, fine I didn’t sleep. At first, it was because of Steve – no, not like that, Barton, Jesus. But then, Brock started calling and I turned my phone off but I still couldn’t really sleep. I haven’t even looked at it since I got home.”

“Give me your phone. I’m blocking his number.” Natasha held her hand out expectantly.

“It is blocked, Red, but he can still hide his caller ID and get through. He hasn’t been this aggressive lately with it. It’ll stop eventually. It’s fine, honestly.” He was able to meet her stare for all of five seconds before rolling his eyes and going for his laptop. Natasha didn’t react beyond dropping her hand onto Clint’s knee. She knew she’d won.

Bucky logged into his account and changed his number, feeling a lot freer than he honestly expected to feel. He sent a quick text to the important people in his life, which amounted to Nat, Clint, his boss, and – oh, shit, he didn’t have Steve’s number. How did he not have Steve’s number?

“So when do we get to meet this kid?” Clint asked.

“You? Never,” Bucky said, trying to decide if he wanted another cronut.

“Are you seeing him again?” Natasha stood and took the empty coffee cups to the trash can.

Bucky nodded. “Lunch, today.”

“Do we need to babysit you?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Alright, but call me if you need me. Come on, Old McBarton. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us if we’re making it to the farm before it gets dark.” She tugged on Clint’s jacket and started for the door.

Bucky stood to see them out, earning a clap on the back from Clint and a kiss on the cheek from Nat. “Have fun, you two crazy kids,” he said.

“Oh, I got you a present!” Clint said with barely concealed laughter. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a bag, which he then pressed into Bucky’s hands with a wink.

“That better have not come from my overnight bag, or you’re going to regret it,” Natasha said seriously.

“Uuhhh, I think we should probably go. I need to just…stop somewhere… Later, Barnes!” Clint said, rushing toward the elevators.

“Have fun,” Nat said over her shoulder.

Bucky opened the bag in his hand and rolled his eyes. “Thanks, guys, really,” he muttered, closing the door and tossing the box of condoms on the coffee table, telling himself he’d put them away later.

***

At two on the dot, there was a knock at Steve’s door. Despite having Peggy sitting on his lap, Sam tried to stand.

“Just a sec!” Steve called. “And don’t you dare touch that door knob, Wilson.” Steve sat his sketchbook aside, glad that Bucky was finally here. He could tell that Sam was getting curious about what he was drawing and he didn’t want to explain why he had an entire page filled with Bucky’s eyes, lips, and hands. He carefully closed it and tucked it on the shelf before grabbing his jacket and stepping into his boots.

“I’m meeting him,” Sam said, moving Peggy so that he could draw himself up to his full height.

“Stop it,” Steve growled, opening the door.

Bucky stood in front of him, looking ridiculously good in a grey v-neck t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of battered black Chuck Taylors. A slow grin spread across his face as he looked Steve up and down. Maybe they could skip lunch and just go to his place. “Hey, Stevie.”

_Stevie_? Sam mouthed at Peggy. She shook her head and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, cursing himself for allowing it to come out a little breathily.

“You ready?”

“Yep. Bye,” Steve said, halfway out the door.

“Nope. Hold up. What are your intentions with Stevie, here?” Sam asked, grabbing the door as Steve tried to pull it closed.

Steve wanted to melt into the floor. He wasn’t sure if he’d survive this. As it was, he was concerned that his face was actually glowing with embarrassment.

Bucky turned and smirked, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Nothing virtuous, I assure you. Bucky Barnes,” he said, thrusting his free hand out.

“Good. He needs a bit of corruption. Sam Wilson. And this is Peggy Carter,” Sam said, shaking his hand firmly and gesturing to Peggy.

“Nice to meet ya. Do I need to have him back by a certain time?” Bucky asked, looking down at Steve and enjoying his discomfiture enough that he almost felt bad teasing him.

“Nope. Thursday, for all I care. Have fun, Steve. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Sam said.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Peggy chastised as the door closed.

“Sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t resist,” Bucky said, tucking Steve closer into his side as they waited for the elevator.

“S’okay. I figured something like that would happen eventually. I couldn’t keep you to myself for long. I mean – ” _Shit, why did I have to open my mouth?_ Steve wondered, mentally kicking himself.

“I think that can be arranged,” Bucky said, wrapping his other arm around Steve’s shoulders and leaning in for a soft kiss.

Steve immediately went pliant in his arms, relaxing into his body and slipping his arms around Bucky’s waist. _Maybe they should just stay in_ , Steve thought fleetingly. He could easily stand there all day, kissing, and rubbing little circles into the small of Bucky’s back through his t-shirt.

Slowly, through the haze that seemed to settle over him whenever he kissed Bucky, a voice penetrated, asking politely if they could please not do that in front of the elevator because people would like to get to their apartment.

“Sorry, Sharon,” Steve said, flushing redder than he had when Sam teased them, and stepped aside. He ducked his head and wouldn’t meet her eyes, so he missed her kind smile.

Bucky shrugged and grinned as if to say ‘can you blame me?’ and pulled Steve into the elevator. “Come on, Stevie. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“Where are we going?” Steve asked quietly, still a little uncomfortable, but feeling it ebb away as Bucky’s arm settled back onto his shoulders.

“Tim’s. Ever been? They do the best damn burgers in town, and no one knows about it,” Bucky said, trying desperately to stifle a yawn.

“No, never been. I don’t really go out much. Sam says I get into too much trouble if I go out without a chaperone.” It was probably true, but Steve didn’t necessarily need to be reminded of it every time he set foot out the door.

“Well then it’s a good thing you got me with you. I’ll make sure you behave,” Bucky said, wondering just what the hell sort of trouble a guy like Steve could possibly get into. He was 100 pounds soaking wet and the most unassuming person Bucky’d ever met.

They exited the building, Bucky’s arm never having left his shoulders again, and Steve tentatively put his arm around Bucky’s waist. The only reaction he received was to be tucked closer to Bucky’s torso, and Steve smiled happily.

“You okay walking it? It’s not very far. It won’t bother your asthma, will it?” Bucky asked.

“Nah, M’good. I like walking, ‘specially around here. There’s always something to draw,” he said.

“You draw?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, I’m not just a one trick pony with the graphic artistry. I’m pretty handy with a pencil. Or a pen, I guess, but I prefer charcoal or graphite. Sam says it’s because I’m monochromatic, I see everything in black and white, right and wrong. Say he’s never met someone with a moral compass like mine. Maybe I am little like that, in some situations, but I prefer shades of grey, shadow and light playing off of each other.” It was the most he’d spoken about himself in…ever - let alone to Bucky – and he wondered for a moment if it had come out wrong, or a lot more pretentious than he’d intended. He glanced up at him, trying to gauge his reaction, and found Bucky smiling faintly. “Sorry, that was a little – ”

“Beautiful?” Bucky cut in. “Yeah, it was. Can I see, one of these days?”

“What? My drawings?”

Bucky nodded. He meant more than that, though. He wanted to watch Steve’s nimble, clever fingers tease a picture out of lead and paper, maybe watch him paint, if he did that.

“Sure, if you want. You can always check out my website, too. I can’t believe you haven’t googled me already. I spent the entire day yesterday obsessively googling you to find out all your dark, hidden secrets,” Steve said, teasing one finger under Bucky’s t-shirt.

Bucky laughed through a yawn. “I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Figured if you were a serial killer, you wouldn’t have a public facebook page anyway. Here we are! Tim’s. Man, this guy, I don’t know what he puts in these burgers, but they’re the best damn things I’ve ever had in my mouth. Well, aside from your balls,” he said.

“Not the first person to tell me that,” Steve replied cheekily.

Bucky opened the door and it hit him again just how hungry he was. He waved to a pretty brunette who held up a finger but waved them toward a booth. “That’s Maria. She’s Tim’s wife. She runs the place with an iron fist.”

“You come here often?” Steve asked.

“Once a week, I guess. I told you, I don’t cook. I have regular places, though. Here, go ahead and look at the menu.” Bucky handed over a battered menu and stifled a yawn behind his fist. He stared down at the table with his hands clasped in front of him and fell silent, content to watch Steve and the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.

Steve gave the menu a cursory glance, figuring that if Bucky came here that often, he’d know what was good, and therefore he’d just have whatever Bucky was having. When he looked back up at Bucky, his eyes were far away. He was staring at the table as though it held all the answers to the universe.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, you?” Bucky looked up and smiled wanly. Shit, he was tired. The two large cups of coffee suddenly seemed like a long time ago.

“So, uh, what’s good?” Steve asked.

“The bacon cheeseburger is the best in Brooklyn. And the cheese fries are the gre…” His words were interrupted by a huge yawn. “Sorry. Greatest cheese fries ever.”

“Am I keepin’ ya awake, Buck?” Steve joked, but Bucky did look tired.

“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said.

“We could have rescheduled, you know.” Steve felt bad, dragging Bucky out when he was obviously so tired.

“Nah, it’s okay. We can – ” But another yawn interrupted whatever it was they could do.

Steve rolled his eyes and signaled to the brunette woman who had directed them to their table. “Excuse me, but would we be able to get our order to go?” he asked.

“For Bucky? Anything. What do you want, hon?” she asked.

Steve looked at Bucky, who smiled gratefully. “Two bacon cheeseburgers and cheese fries. Thanks, Maria.”

“No problem. Now get the hell out of the booth so someone who plans on staying can have it,” she said, making a shooing motion.

Bucky insisted on paying, so Steve went to look at the art on the walls. It looked to all be local artists. The streets of Brooklyn wound around him, some in black and white, others in color, all flowing organically around the restaurant creating a beautiful map. Maybe next time, if there was a next time, they could take their time, look at the pictures, talk… Steve hadn’t been on a real date in a long time. It just never seemed important, but with Bucky, he found himself wanting to do all those things couples did when they first got together, all that cliché stuff that he mocked Sam and Peggy for still doing: strolls through Prospect Park or the Botanical Gardens, dinner on the rooftop.

Bucky was mad at himself for letting this happen. He had desperately wanted to enjoy the afternoon out with Steve after his shitty night and now they couldn’t even have that.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said when they were on the elevator to their floor, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, Buck. If you’re that tired, maybe you should just get some sleep. You don’t ha – ”

“Why don’t you come in and we can at least have lunch together, like we planned. I’ll sleep after. Just, have lunch with me, please?” Steve couldn’t leave. He wanted him. To, uh, stay, to spend time with him. Okay, fine, he wanted him like that, too, but he wanted his company more than anything.

“If you’re sure…” Steve really didn’t want to force Bucky to stay awake. He wanted to tuck him into bed and kiss his forehead and make sure he was asleep. Maybe he’d make him something for dinner, if he could convince him to go to sleep. He began a mental checklist of things he’d need.

“If I fall asleep, just don’t let me drown in the cheese from the fries, okay? They use, like, a gallon,” Bucky said, not even bothering to hide his yawning now.

“This is ridiculous. Just go to bed. We can hang out later, tomorrow maybe,” Steve said when they got to the door.

“No, I’m hungry. Come on. I’ve got beer and we’ve got the best food ever,” Bucky said, grabbing his hand and fumbling to get the key from his jeans pocket with the hand that held the bag of food.

“Gimme,” Steve said, exasperated and fond, and reached into Bucky’s pocket for him.

Bucky went stock still as Steve slipped his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans to fish his keys out.  Nimble fingers brushed his thigh and he hoped to whoever might be listening that he didn’t end up painfully hard standing in the middle of the hallway. Steve had shortened his tether to the point where Bucky honestly wasn’t sure how much more he could take and now the little jerk had his hand in his front pocket.

All too soon, Steve withdrew, holding the key up triumphantly. The smile died on his lips when he saw the way Bucky was staring at him. He flushed pink. _What the hell do you think you’re doing, Rogers?_ He thought. He cleared his throat and looked away, reaching out with the key.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured.

Steve looked up, his breath catching in his throat. Bucky was staring at his mouth, eyes barely flicking up to meet his before once again locking on his lips. “Bucky…” he began.

Bucky didn’t give Steve a chance to finish whatever he was going to say. He crowded him into the doorway, kissing him hard, tongue darting out to tease Steve’s mouth open so that he could lick in to taste him. Steve groaned into the kiss and gripped Bucky’s neck in an effort to pull him closer.

“Get the door open,” Steve managed to say, dragging his mouth from Bucky’s, only to run his tongue along Bucky’s jaw.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. One hand still wrapped tightly around Steve, he took the keys and unlocked the door with the other. Steve was attached to his neck and Bucky knew he was going to get his balls busted about the hickey, but he really couldn’t care.

Finally, he worked the door open and they stumbled into the apartment. Bucky kicked the door closed and dropped the bag of food he’d managed to keep hold of onto the floor. He could finally get Steve in his arms properly and he took full advantage, finally wrapping his hands around Steve’s thighs and lifting him, urging his legs around his hips.

Steve gasped as Bucky lifted him but he wasn’t about to protest. He locked his ankles at the small of Bucky’s back and held on as Bucky moved toward the sofa.

Bucky stumbled backward and landed heavily on his ass on the cushion. He quickly readjusted so that Steve was on top of him, looking down searchingly at his face, pupils dilated and lips kiss-swollen.

“This okay?” Bucky asked.

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, Buck, this is okay,” he said, leaning down to meet his lips. This was beyond okay. This was everything Steve wanted and then some. He rolled his hips experimentally and was rewarded with a throaty groan.

Bucky’s hands were everywhere, slipping into the collar of Steve’s shirt, gripping his tiny, muscled ass, tracing back up his spine.

Kissing his way from one ear to the other, Steve happened to turn his head just a little and spotted something lying on the coffee table.

“Buck…?” he asked.

“Yeah, baby?” Bucky was damn near gone. The lack of sleep the night before, the frustration that he’d felt when he’d been interrupted that morning, and now having Steve on top of him and just as turned on as Bucky was heady. He wanted nothing more than to rip their clothes off, slick himself up, and have Steve fuck him straight through the mattress.

“Why is there a box of condoms on you coffee table?” Steve leaned back to look at Bucky’s face with a smile.

“What…?” Bucky asked, looking adorably confused.

Steve gestured to the table and Bucky looked over, grimacing.

“Goddamn it, Barton,” he muttered.

“Friend of yours?” Steve asked, unsure if he should laugh.

“Supposedly,” Bucky growled. “He and his girlfriend were here this morning and he left me a present.”

“Sam did the same thing to me yesterday,” Steve said, sitting up on Bucky’s thighs. “I was in the kitchen and he tossed a box on the table and told me if I intended to work you over like I was the meatballs that I was to make sure I used a condom.”

Bucky snorted, running his hands up and down Steve’s thighs. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine, Buck. Do you wanna…keep going or…?” Steve wasn’t sure how to proceed. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to sink back down onto Bucky’s chest and continue to kiss him until they ended up needing the damned box of condoms. On the other hand, he felt like he ruined the mood.

Steve’s stomach chose that moment to growl and Bucky laughed. “Let’s eat. Then maybe we can discuss how far we’re willing to allow this to go.”

They microwaved their food, pleasantly surprised that everything held up relatively well upon reheating. And Bucky was right; it was the best burger Steve had ever eaten. By the end the meal, Bucky was beginning to look glassy-eyed again. He was answering with one word responses.

“Okay, jerk. Go to bed. I’ll clean up and let myself out,” Steve said, taking the empty bottle from Bucky’s fist and moving to rinse their plates.

“No, Steve, please don’t go.” Bucky didn’t want him to leave. He wanted Steve to come to bed with him. He was too tired to do anything but sleep, but he wanted Steve to stay so badly. He’d been thinking about curling up around him since he’d gotten out of bed that morning, to the point where it was an expectation at this point, rather than just something he hoped for.

“You’re dead on your feet. Just go to sleep. Call me later.” Steve began loading the dishwasher.

“Sleep with me. I mean, lay down with me. Do you have work to do? Can you put it off, just for a little bit?” Bucky asked.

“If that’s just a line to get me into bed…” Steve warned.

“No, it’s not. Well, it is, but not like that. Come on, Stevie, come lay down with me for a while. I’ll behave, I promise,” Bucky said, crossing his heart and holding up what he hoped were the right fingers for ‘scout’s honor.’

Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. “Those are the wrong fingers,” he said, taking Bucky’s hand and folding it into the right configuration.

“Will you stay?” Bucky asked again.

“Yeah, okay, come on, before you fall down,” Steve said. He watched Bucky’s face light up, and allowed himself to be pulled into a gentle hug.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmured, kissing him lightly. He took Steve’s hand and pulled him towards the bedroom. “Do you mind if I change?”

“No, whatever you need. I’ll just…” Steve gestured to the bathroom. At Bucky’s nod, he went in and closed the door. When he came out a few minutes later, Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed in a Black Sabbath t-shirt and flannel pants, looking at his phone.

“Hey, I don’t have your number.” Bucky handed him his phone and looked up expectantly. When Steve handed the phone back, Bucky dropped it on the night stand and swung his legs up and under the blanket. He patted the bed beside him. “Come on, Stevie. I won’t bite. I promise.”

Steve lay down beside him and Bucky immediately rolled into his side. Steve put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and began gently running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Feels good,” Bucky murmured, tucking his head more comfortably onto Steve’s shoulder. He hooked his leg over Steve’s and slung an arm over Steve’s ribs. “This okay…?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s good,” Steve said softly. The only answer he received was a soft exhalation and the feel of Bucky’s body going boneless as sleep took him. Steve smiled faintly, snuggling down more comfortably. His last thought before he dropped off to sleep, too, was that the feeling of being wrapped up like this in Bucky’s arms was a feeling he wasn’t ready to give up any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. Come hang out on tumblr with me at britishcheekbonessociety.tumblr.com and talk to me about Stucky because, I mean, is there anything better?


	4. Pancakes, Hot Grandpas, and Pretentious Hipster Restaurants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky finally get to have a real date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again and as always to TheMeaningOfHaste for being an awesome beta and putting up with my particular brand of crazy! Please see the end of the chapter for the (hopefully correct) translations of what Bucky's Russian.

Bucky woke a couple hours later after the best sleep he’d had in ages and was immediately disappointed. The bed was cold and empty, not even a hint of Steve’s warmth left in the sheets. He wanted to know so badly what it felt like to wake up with Steve next to him, to pull Steve into his arms and kiss him good morning, or evening, or whatever the – what time was it, anyway?

He reached for his phone to check the time and found a text from Natasha.

_How was lunch?_

He didn’t want to answer. Natasha could read sadness over a text like it was a goddamn psychic ability. He wondered briefly is he should call Steve and see if he wanted to grab dinner.

“Yeah, because you didn’t fuck up lunch or anything,” Bucky muttered, feeling sorry for himself.

He dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the door where his sleepy brain perked up at the smell of coffee. Why did he smell coffee? He opened the door and felt like he was walking into his favorite breakfast place, only better. The scent of bacon and something that smelled sweet and summery made him salivate. And that was before he found Steve leaning over the island. Bucky felt a surge of affection. Steve was still here and he was cooking for him. Maybe he hadn’t screwed it up.

Steve was still in the clothes he’d been in when they went to bed, but his shirt was untucked and his hair was mussed. He was bobbing his head as he whipped something in a bowl and Bucky caught sight of a pair of earbuds.

“Steve?” Bucky asked uncertainly.

Steve didn’t seem to have heard him. He didn’t want to startle him, but how the hell did he avoid that when Steve was being purposefully oblivious to everything around him.

***

Steve didn’t sleep very long, but it was nice to just lie next to Bucky and watch him and that wasn’t creepy _at all_. It was with that thought that Steve slipped out from under Bucky’s arm and head, tucked the blanket around him, and ran out to the store. He wasn’t gone long, but he worried that Bucky would wake and think he was ducking out on him. After a quick stop off at his own place for his earbuds and iPod, and a quick ‘thank you’ to whoever was listening that Sam and Peggy were out, he made it back to the apartment without Bucky waking and set to work cooking.

He popped his earbuds in and started his playlist. It was an easy groove to fall into and Bucky’s kitchen was simple enough to navigate. His intention was to have everything done by the time Bucky woke up. He checked the bacon, which he was candying in the oven. It was very close to being done and he hadn’t even started the pancakes. He quickly finished the batter and began portioning it out on the hot griddle, smiling as it almost instantly began to fluff up. A scoop of the peaches he’d chopped in the center and then the flip, it was relaxing, the repetition. He reached for the bowl, scooped up some batter, and was dropping it onto the griddle when he realized someone was with him.

Steve jumped, the spoon flinging batter up to land directly on Bucky’s cheek.

“Shit, Buck, I’m so sorry. You scared me,” Steve said, setting the bowl aside.

Bucky laughed, swiping his thumb over his cheek. “S’okay. What is all this?” He gestured around as he rinsed the batter off of his thumb.

“I thought maybe you’d want dinner…” Steve said sheepishly. Was this…not okay? Of course it wasn’t okay. He’d taken over Bucky’s kitchen and thrown pancake batter in his face.

“You’re gonna burn that one,” Bucky said with a nod at the stove.

“Shit!” Steve flipped the pancake and turned back to Bucky. He didn’t look bothered; confused, maybe, but not upset. “I just thought that maybe you’d want something to eat before you go to work tonight.”

“So you’re making me breakfast? ‘Cause, I gotta tell you, I love breakfast,” Bucky said, dropping a kiss on Steve’s cheek as he passed by to grab a coffee mug. He began dumping sugar into the cup. When he found Steve watching him with a raised eyebrow, he grinned and shrugged. He jumped up on the counter beside the stove and poured coffee over the mountain of sugar he’d made. “What’cha listenin’ to?”

“ _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ was on when you scared the shit out of me,” Steve grumbled **,** the pile of pancakes growing. He opened the oven, pulled out the tray of bacon, and set it aside.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know,” Bucky said, watching him begin to arrange four strips of bacon and a stack of pancakes. He topped it with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“This wasn’t trouble. This was fun. I’m sorry I wrecked your kitchen, though.” Steve sat the plate at the island and gestured for Bucky to sit down.

“Yeah, I’m real upset about that,” Bucky said sarcastically as he tucked in to his plate. No one had ever done this for him before, cooked for him, cared if he had a real meal before he went to work. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying it.

Steve smiled as he sat down across from him with his own plate.

“I don’t think I’m letting you go home,” Bucky said around a mouthful of pancakes.

“Sam will only notice when he doesn’t get breakfasts like this anymore,” Steve said self-deprecatingly. “Then he’ll storm the place demanding his personal chef back.”

“Well, he can’t have him. He’s mine now, and he - oh my god what did you put on this bacon?”

 _Did he just say I’m his?_ Steve choked on his coffee.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, clearing his throat. “I, uh, I candied the bacon,” he stuttered, trying to recover. Did Bucky even realize what he’d said? He couldn’t have realized.

“I’m definitely not letting you go home now.” Bucky dipped his finger into the whipped cream sitting on top of his pancakes. “Do not tell me you made this yourself.”

When Steve nodded, Bucky laughed and sucked the whipped cream off of his finger. “Where the hell have you been my whole life?”

“Across the hall, for about the last six months,” Steve said weakly, trying to ignore how tight his jeans suddenly were. If Bucky was going to be doing that, he was going to need his inhaler.

“Well that constitutes a failing on my part,” Bucky said with a smile. “And I’m sure you’re aware now that I’m only using you for your cooking skills, but maybe we can come to some sort of an arrangement.”

Bucky stood and moved around the island to stand very close to Steve.

“What sort of arrangement?” Steve asked, looking up and zeroing in on Bucky’s lips.

“Oh, you know… You make me breakfast and, in exchange, I...do this…” Bucky closed the distance between them and used his teeth to gently tug on the little gold hoop at the corner of Steve’s mouth before worrying at it with the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck,” Steve gasped.

Bucky used the opportunity to lick into Steve’s mouth, sliding his hands down Steve’s back to grasp his ass. “Come back to bed with me,” he whispered. “We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, but fuck, I need you in my bed.”

Steve could only moan into the kiss. _Fuck it,_ he thought. He could stop if things got to be too much too soon. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and allowed Bucky to urge his legs around his waist. Bucky carried him into the bedroom, his breathing erratic as Steve sucked and nipped at his earlobe. They fell onto the bed, Bucky settling his hips against Steve’s and purposefully grinding against him.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, his mouth dropping away from Bucky’s jaw.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth when you’re all worked up,” Bucky teased. He kissed his way down Steve’s jaw and slid his hand under Steve’s shirt, teasing along the waist of his pants.

“Wait til you see what I can do with it,” Steve said, hips twitching.

Bucky pulled in a sharp gasp. Well if that didn’t go straight to his dick… He sat up and practically ripped his shirt off.

Steve only got a moment’s glimpse of Bucky’s chest before he was pulled up and Bucky was trying to tug Steve’s shirt off, too.

“Buck, wait,” Steve said, pushing against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Steve. I want you. It’s okay,” he muttered, his hands running up Steve’s back under his shirt.

“No, Bucky, wait. Please.” He couldn’t let Bucky see his scar. Not yet. It was too soon, and too ugly. He pushed Bucky back and moved away.

“Stevie, what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I didn’t – ” _Shit_ , Bucky thought. He fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up.

“It’s fine. No, really, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assured him. “It’s just… My scar. I don’t let people see it. I’m not ready for that. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at Bucky.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky groaned, covering his face with his hands. He was horrified that he’d allowed his libido to override his brain.

“I had some of the best doctors in New York working on me, but I ended up with an infection. The scar is way worse than it should have been because of it.” Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. “It’s not that I don’t want you. I do, god, I do. But it’s – ”

“I get it. It took me a long time to be okay with my arm.”

“How much time do you have before you have to go to work?” Steve asked.

Bucky reached for his phone and sighed. “I should probably get ready, but all I want to do is drag you under the covers and make this mess up to you.”

Steve chuckled. “You don’t have anything to make up to me.”

Bucky snuggled up against Steve’s side, tugging him down so that he was level with him. “Yeah, I do. I was an ass. I’m not off again until Friday, but let me take you to dinner this weekend, somewhere nice. I feel like maybe we’ve been doing this a little backwards. Come on, Stevie, let me wine and dine you.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about wine,” Steve said, kissing the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“I don’t. But that’s why they have recommendations.” Bucky kissed back, moaning at the slick feel of Steve’s tongue teasing against his own.

Steve allowed it for a few moments before pulling back and smiling as Bucky tried to follow him. “We should probably stop if you’re going to work.”

Bucky sighed. “You should probably get out of my bed, then.” With one last kiss, he dragged himself up and out of bed.

Steve stood, too. “I’ll clean up dinner. Call me tomorrow?”

“I’ll text you tonight,” Bucky countered, settling his hands on Steve’s hips.

“Okay,” Steve said, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. He leaned up and kissed him one more time, and then left the room, leaving Bucky to change his clothes.

***

The prospect of not seeing Bucky for a few days was depressing, but Steve had more than enough work to get him through the rest of the week. Every now and then, his text alert would go off and when he opened it, he would find something that would make him smile.

Bucky: Found you on facebook. Were you really born on July 4th? I guess the robe is appropriate, Captain America.

Steve: It’s warm, too.

Bucky: I’m warmer ;)

On Wednesday night, he got a text at 1:45 in the morning. He was awake anyway, tossing and turning and unable to get comfortable, so he answered it.

Bucky: Send help. I made a terrible mistake.

Steve was instantly alert and half out of bed while typing furiously.

Steve: What’s wrong? Where are you? What happened? I’m on my way.

Bucky’s response was almost immediate.

Bucky: Oh shit no lol I’m at work I’m fine hahaha

Steve: Jerk

Bucky: lol I asked a customer about wine, because he comes in a lot and always orders wine and he’s been talking for three hours about it

Steve: I have no sympathy.

Bucky: Aw come on don’t be like that I wanted to impress you!

On Thursday, Bucky sent a photo that sent Steve into peals of laughter. Bucky’s face was barely visible in a sea of women, all of whom were wearing something penis-shaped, and a message that said ‘ur boyfriend is cute we r keeping him!’

A few minutes later, Bucky called.

“I see you got out from under the pile of ladies,” Steve laughed.

Sam looked up from the television with an eyebrow cocked. Steve grinned and showed him the photo.

“Hey, man, I’m jealous!” Sam yelled.

“It’s a Thursday, for Christ sake. Who has a bachelorette party on a Thursday? And it’s only 10! No one should be that drunk at 10 on a Thursday,” Bucky groused. “The bride is an accountant. She had two shots – TWO SHOTS, Steve! – and wanted me to strip! I said no and I – Stop laughing! You’re the worst.”

“If you need to me come and rescue you, I will,” Steve said, unable to stop giggling.

“Maybe I’ll just take the maid of honor home tonight,” Bucky grumbled, but Steve could hear the smile. He could also hear the cheer that went up from a loud group of women.

“You’re such a punk,” Bucky said.

“See you tomorrow, jerk,” Steve said.

***

Friday dawned grey and rainy. Steve didn’t have anything that couldn’t wait until Monday, so he never even bothered to get out of his pajamas until he needed to get ready. He waited as long as he possibly could to shower and get dressed, and lingered over his outfit, eventually settling on a checked blue button-down and khakis.

“It brings out your eyes,” Peggy replied when he asked what she thought.

“You look like a hot grandpa,” Sam said. Peggy smacked his arm with the magazine she was reading. “What? He’s such a little hipster someti – ow, woman, stop!”

“You look very handsome, Steve. Now, go have fun.” She kissed his cheek and patted his butt, then pushed him out the door.

“Make good choices!” Sam called as the door clicked shut.

By the time he raised his hand to knock on Bucky’s door, he was nervous. Telling himself he was being ridiculous, he knocked and stepped back, smoothing his hair down one last time.

***

“See, Natasha? I can dress myself just fine,” Bucky muttered to the empty room, checking the knot in his tie one last time. He stepped back and straightened the hem of his light grey sweater, checking his ass in his snug black jeans. “Lookin’ good, Barnes,” he said, snapping his fingers and pointing at his reflection.

“Don’t do that in front of Steve,” he muttered. “And stop talking to yourself.”

This was Steve, for crying out loud. Why should he be nervous? A rapid knock on his door made him jump. He put on his hat, went to the door, took a steadying breath, and opened it. He thought he was prepared, but he really, really wasn’t.

Steve stood before him looking like he’d just fallen out of a 1950’s suburb. His khakis even had creases. The only exception to modernity was the lip ring and Bucky would be damned if that didn’t make it somehow hotter. His fingers itched to run through Steve’s adorably gelled hair and make a mess of it.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said, not even caring that his voice cracked just the tiniest bit.

“Hey…” Whatever Steve had been expecting, it wasn’t Bucky in a newsboy cap and a tie that matched his eyes a little too well. Steve bit down on his lip ring to stop himself from saying something stupid.

They stared at each other for another beat before Bucky managed to snap out of it and step out of his apartment. He locked the door and grabbed Steve’s hand. “Ready for what I’ve been assured is a dining experience we’ll never forget?”

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.

“Remember Wine Guy? The one who talked for, like, three hours about different types of wine and literally all of it went over my head?” Bucky pressed the button to call the elevator. “He also swore by this place.”

“I thought you called him ‘the world’s most pretentious douchebag, and I work in the most hipster bar in Brooklyn’?” Steve asked.

Bucky leaned down and kissed his nose. “Don’t worry, baby, I looked it up online. They have some really good reviews. Are you wearing Old Spice?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re such a grandpa,” Bucky laughed.

The elevator came and they stepped on. When the door closed, Steve turned and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. He leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since you opened the door.”

“You’ve got to stop doing that, or we’re going to miss another date, but this time it’ll be your fault,” Bucky said tightly. “I’m about to drag you back upstairs for dessert.”

“That’s not very romantic. I thought you wanted to wine and dine me,” Steve teased as they stepped off the elevator.

“I do, but hell, Steve, look at you,” Bucky whined. It was a good thing they were walking. Maybe he could cool off before they got to the restaurant. His jeans were suddenly uncomfortably tight and he was desperate to not fuck this up. How the hell did Steve manage to push his buttons when he was dressed like his grandpa? For one thing, it had to do with that fucking lip ring. It was addicting, feeling the cool metal press against his skin. For another it was the fact that he easily had 60 pounds on him, but Steve could and did maneuver Bucky wherever he wanted him. Mostly, though, it was Steve himself. He was a magnet to which Bucky was drawn in the most fundamental ways.

“Aw, I’m nothin’ much,” Steve said, snuggling into Bucky’s side.

“You’re a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Steve,” Bucky said softly.

They were quiet for a little while; just watching the hustle and bustle around them and enjoying the fact that they didn’t actually need to say anything. When they finally made it to the restaurant about ten minutes later, Steve’s face went through a myriad of expressions before settling on bemused.

“Bistro Niche?” he asked skeptically.

“I know, I thought the exact same thing, but the reviews are good. Come on. I got us a reservation and asked for their best table.” Bucky gave his name and they were led to a half-circular booth in the back. It was intimate, with golden lighting and light French jazz playing softly.

“I’m impressed. I thought that this would be a lot more ostentatious,” Steve said, sliding into the seat.

“дорогой, only pretentious people use words like ‘ostentatious’,” Bucky said with a smirk as he tucked his hat into his back pocket and sat down beside him, immediately hooking an arm around his shoulders.

“Only truly ostentatious people speak other languages to confuse their dates. For all I know, you just called me something highly offensive. I’m not sure if I should stay.” Of course he wasn’t going anywhere. Bucky could call him all the names in the book and he’d laugh and slip his hand into Bucky’s back pocket to grab his ass.

“возлюбленный, красивый, котенок,” Bucky said, nuzzling his way along Steve’s neck.

“May I interest you gentlemen in a drink?” a voice asked as discreetly as possible.

Bucky looked up, eyes twinkling, and asked as seriously as he could what the man recommended be paired with the specials. He zoned out almost immediately, having no idea what the hell the guy was talking about. One glance at Steve told him that he was in the same boat.

“Just, uh, bring us whatever you’d recommend,” Bucky interrupted after about two minutes of droning.

“As you wish, sir,” the waiter said.

“What the hell was all that? Did you get any of it?” Bucky asked.

“Not a word. Have you looked at the menu? It’s just ingredients. There’re no actual dishes listed. It’s amazing.”

An hour later, their entrees were mostly untouched, but there were two empty bottles of wine on the table. Neither of them realized what they were getting into when they ordered, and Bucky would have regretted coming here if it weren’t for the sheer amount of fun he was having trying to one-up Steve in a game of pretention.

Steve just finished regaling him with a tale of a very memorable make-your-own-pizza party he’d gone to with Peggy and Sam where an irate gluten-free vegan demanded to know who brought pepperoni to the party and just what did they mean the crust had butter in it when their waiter came back to the table.

“Would you gentlemen like to order dessert?” he asked, eyeing their mostly-full plates.

“No, thanks, man. Can we just get the check?” Bucky asked. Everything was just mildly fuzzy around the edges and he felt very good.

The waiter brought the check and took Bucky’s credit card. Steve waited impatiently for Bucky’s card to be returned to him. He was suddenly very aware of where he wanted the night to go. He was sober enough to know what he was doing, but just drunk enough that the idea of Bucky seeing his chest didn’t fill him with anxiety. He moved into Bucky the moment they set foot outside the restaurant, his arm going around Bucky’s waist and his free hand on Bucky’s chest.

Bucky felt warm and loose and Steve’s extreme proximity wasn’t helping. He was entirely too close, but nowhere near close enough, and there were far too many layers between them. He wanted skin on skin contact. He wanted Steve on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. He stopped short, causing Steve to jerk to a stop and crash against him.

“Stevie,” he murmured, looking down at him. That fucking lip ring… He wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing Bucky was aware of was that Steve was kissing him, right there in the middle of the street, and his hands were wound into Steve’s hair.

“Your place?” Steve asked against his mouth.

“Yeah…” Bucky whispered dreamily.

Steve noticed the walk back in fits and starts. One moment, he was kissing Bucky, and the next, they were halfway through a crosswalk. But by the time they got to the elevator, they couldn’t have taken their hands off of each other if their lives depended on it.

Bucky was all but panting by the time they got to his door. He fumbled with the key, finding it very hard to focus on slotting it into the hole when Steve’s hands were under his sweater, rucking up his shirt and undershirt to tease along the line of hair that started just below his navel. He growled triumphantly when he finally got it open and dragged Steve in, shoving the door shut behind them.

Steve began methodically pulling pieces of clothing off of Bucky’s body. His sweater, his button-down, the tie, they were all removed quickly and efficiently while Bucky dragged him in for lingering, open-mouthed kisses. As Steve began working at his belt buckle, Bucky stilled his hands.

“Slow down,” Bucky said, leading Steve into the bedroom. “Come on. I wanna see you, too,” he said. He tugged his undershirt off and dropped it on the floor before reaching for Steve’s buttons.

Steve frozen, his breath punching painfully out of his lungs; just like that, the anxiety was back. He gripped Bucky’s hands tightly, stilling them.

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky said, tipping his chin up. “I don’t care that you’ve got a scar. It just means that you fought a helluva battle and won. It won’t make me want you any less.”

Steve nodded, accepting Bucky’s kiss. He let go, allowing Bucky to unbutton his shirt and push it off of his shoulders. He closed his eyes when his t-shirt came off, waiting for some sort of reaction. None came, and slowly, he opened his eyes.

Bucky stared at the scar for a moment, fingering hovering, wanting to touch but not daring to yet. He looked back to Steve’s eyes. “You said you almost died?”

Steve nodded.

“Hell, baby.” Bucky dropped to his knees in front of Steve and kissed his way down Steve’s chest, tongue grazing first over one nipple then the other. He kissed down the scar and over Steve’s ribs, fingers busy with Steve’s belt and fly. Bucky mouthed at his hipbones as he dragged Steve’s pants and boxer briefs down, wrapping his hands around Steve’s waist to help support him as he swallowed him down all the way to the base in one long, slow suck.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky!” Steve cried. He sank his hands into Bucky’s hair and pulled. The answering groan made his knees tremble. It was so much better than he could have imagined. Bucky’s mouth was warm and wet, and the suction was so intense that he would have been on the floor if it weren’t for Bucky’s hands keeping him steady.

Oh, but Steve tasted good. Bucky would have been content to stay on his knees in front of him all night, the weight of Steve’s thick, smooth cock sliding on his tongue, his thighs trembling against Bucky’s chest. He moved up, teasing the slit with his tongue and was rewarded with a warm rush of pre-come. He groaned harshly again, rubbing the flat of his tongue along the underside as he moved back down.

“Oh, Bucky, please…” Steve begged. “God, so close. Not yet, please… I want…Bucky, fuck…” He was babbling and couldn’t do a damn thing to stop. Bucky’s mouth was heaven. His hips began jerking despite his best efforts to be still.

“Bucky…Bucky I’m so close. Baby, please…”

Bucky wrapped his hand around Steve, working him roughly. He quickly found a rhythm that had Steve moaning louder than ever, and he flicked his thumb over the head once, twice, and then Steve was coming, spilling over Bucky’s hand, his head thrown back, shaking. Bucky gentled his movements, pressing small, sucking kisses across Steve’s thighs.

He quickly wiped his hand on his discarded t-shirt and stood, pulling Steve to the bed where he pushed him back onto the mattress. He worked Steve’s pants off before collapsing beside him, Steve’s breathing still rough.

“You okay?” he asked, feeling immensely pleased with himself as he brush a lock of hair off of Steve’s forehead. At his nod, Bucky leaned over and kissed him, surprised when Steve ran his tongue along the seam of his lips, seeking entrance.

“Your turn,” Steve said, pushing Bucky onto his back and reaching for his belt buckle. “I’ve been thinking about doing this since that first night,” he said against Bucky’s neck.

Bucky couldn’t do anything but hang on for the ride as Steve crawled over top of him and nipped at his ear. Bucky whimpered and Steve nipped again, soothing the spot with his tongue.

“I love that sound,” Steve growled, threading their fingers to pin Bucky’s hands down by his head.

“Want you so bad,” Bucky gasped, head thrown back to give Steve access to his throat.

Steve kissed his way down Bucky’s throat, leaving an impressive bruise on his collar bone before sucking hard on one nipple, then the other. Bucky hissed sharply and buried his fingers in Steve’s hair.

Steve worked Bucky’s belt free and was busy undoing his button and fly. He nosed at the flat plane of Bucky’s stomach, breathing in the addicting scent of his skin before sitting up and working his pants down over his hips, thighs, and finally off. He stared down at him for a moment and was surprised to see a delicate blush creeping across Bucky’s cheeks.

Bucky felt more exposed than he ever had in his entire life under Steve’s gaze. He felt himself blush and tried to put it down to the alcohol coursing through his system, but the fact of the matter was that he could swear Steve could see straight inside him, see every stupid decision he’d made, every good thing he’d ever done. He was suddenly very nervous that he wouldn’t live up to the standards inherent in that frank gaze.

He needn’t have worried, though. Steve leaned in and kissed him very softly and pulled back with a small smile.

“You’re so beautiful, Buck,” he whispered.

For a few seconds, Bucky couldn’t respond. He’d never felt like this before, like he was the center of the universe, like he wanted to shield someone from harm, but at the same time like he was safer than he’d ever been. But then Steve smirked, and the frank carnality in his gaze had Bucky’s dick leaking without him even being touched.

“You gonna sit there staring at me or are you gonna use that pretty mouth?” He tried for bravado and failed, his voice shaky.

In response, Steve leaned over and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. Bucky hissed sharply, his back arching off of the bed and his hands fisting in the sheets. He knew it was coming, was desperate for it, even, but at the first touch of Steve’s lip ring, Bucky nearly lost his mind. It was slightly cooler than Steve’s mouth, and rubbed just the tiniest bit too roughly as Steve slowly sucked him down. He knew he wouldn’t last, not as short as his fuse was when it came to Steve. He laid a hand on the back of Steve’s head, not forcing or even guiding him, but for the feeling of the silky blonde strands between his fingers as Steve slowly took him apart.

Steve was enjoying Bucky’s reactions, the breathy little moans and sighs, the ‘please, Stevie, right there’s. He teased his tongue around the head, sucking hard and allowing Bucky to thrust up into his mouth.

When Bucky’s movements became jerky, his breath coming in tight gasps and rough groans, Steve pulled back and began stroking him with one hand. He sucked his index finger from his free hand, slicking it up generously, and reached down to tease lightly at the entrance to Bucky’s body.

Bucky’s eyes flew open, pupils blown wide, and he arched up off of the bed, gasping Steve’s name like a prayer as he came hard, painting his stomach. His breath came in harsh pants. He couldn’t remember the last time it had been that good.  He tried to reach for Steve but found that he could barely move, his limbs still not caught up to his brain.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” Steve said, standing and padding into the bathroom.

 _Couldn’t if I tried_ , Bucky thought. After only a minute, Steve was back with a cloth and was wiping Bucky’s stomach off. When he tried to move away, Bucky grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck. Just the bathroom. Hang on,” Steve said, leaning down and kissing him.

When Bucky was finally able to move, he worked the blanket out from under him and dropped back onto the pillow. Steve came back and crawled in beside him, tucking into Bucky’s right side.

“That was…” Bucky began.

“Yeah,” Steve said, reaching out to trace the gears of Bucky’s tattoo.

“Do you wanna sleep?” Bucky asked.

“Not really,” Steve said, teasing little patterns across Bucky’s ribs now.

“Good. We can go eat something. We ended up drinking our dinner.” Bucky ran his thumb up and down Steve’s arm, feeling tiny goosebumps rise.

“Was all this just a ploy to get me to cook for you again?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Bucky said, turning so he could lie on his side, facing Steve. “I told you, you cook, and I’ll kiss you.”

“Fair trade,” Steve grinned, shuffling closer so their chests were pressed together.

Bucky closed the inch of distance between them and kissed Steve, moaning softly as Steve’s lip ring tickled at the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck, that lip ring is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Bucky said fervently. He nipped at it, tugged a little.

“If it’s that distracting, I can take it out,” Steve teased.

“I’ll break up with you,” Bucky said before he realized what something like that could mean.

“I’ll stop cooking for you,” Steve countered, recognizing that neither of them was ready for the implications of a statement like that.

“You know you’re only here to feed me,” Bucky said.

“That’s fine. Sam’s praise is waning a little, anyway. Let’s go see what we can find in the kitchen. I’m hungry, too.” He dragged himself away from the warmth of Bucky’s chest and stood, looking around for his pants.

“You’re not putting those khakis back on. Here. I’m sure I have something that will fit well enough for now.” Bucky stood and went to his closet, rummaging around until he found a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt that were clean.

“Put those on. I’ll be right back.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss against his lips and disappeared into the bathroom.

Steve watched Bucky walk away. _Hate to see him go, love to watch him leave_ , he thought with a smile. He pulled the pants on, tying them as tightly as he could. Bucky was right; they fit well enough, and he didn’t plan on wearing them that long.

That thought gave him pause as he tugged the shirt over his head. He’d never had a partner that made him want to be nude, made him want to lie in bed for hours just for the sheer pleasure of the other person’s company. He couldn’t deny that he liked it. Everything was comfortable with Bucky. Even upon review, he didn’t mind that Bucky had not only seen his chest, but touched it, kissed it.

Bucky chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, gloriously nude.

“Maybe put some pants on, Buck. I won’t be responsible for my actions if you are running around like that,” Steve said.

“Like what’cha see?” he asked with a smirk. At Steve’s nod he laughed. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry. Since dinner was a bust, we can order something. Pizza? Chinese?”

“Chinese. But only if you let me get this one,” Steve said as he watched Bucky put on the same pair of flannel pants he wore the afternoon they’d napped together. Forgoing a shirt, he grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him out into the living room. “Go pick a movie, something funny.”

Steve went the bookcase and grabbed the first comedy he came across. He put the disc in and settled on the sofa while Bucky placed an order with somewhere he appeared to be a regular. “No, it’s more than I usually order, I know. Yeah, no, it’s for two. Ha, yeah, thanks. See ya in twenty.”

“Friend of yours?” Steve asked when Bucky sat down beside him.

“I order there a lot. They’re good people, and they have the best hot and sour soup I’ve ever eaten. Shaun of the Dead? You like having nightmares, Steve?” Bucky hauled him onto his lap and sighed contentedly as Steve settled against his shoulder.

“If you’re scared, we can watch something else,” Steve teased.

“Nah, I’m sleepin’ with you tonight. You’ll protect me,” Bucky said as he pressed play.

“Am I staying the night?” Steve asked, desperately hoping the answer was ‘yes’.

“I want you to,” Bucky said against his neck.

Steve smiled and turned to kiss him.

They spent the next twenty minutes arguing about the best place in New York to hole up during a zombie apocalypse. While they agreed that it should be somewhere with food that was easily defensible, they couldn’t agree on where that would be. They were interrupted by the door buzzer.

Bucky nudged Steve off of his lap and went to buzz the delivery guy in.

Steve went to get his wallet and paid the man when he came to the door, leaving a generous tip.

“This is one is kinder than the last one,” the man said in a stage whisper.

“Yeah, he is,” Bucky said with a fond glance at Steve, who was busy opening cartons.

They settled into their meal, feeding each other bites from the different containers. Eventually, full and sleepy, they settled back on the sofa. They dozed like that, catching bits a pieces of the movie until eventually they gave up and went to bed.

Steve stripped his shirt off and untied his pants, allowing them to fall from his hips. When he turned to lie down, he found Bucky staring at him.

“I thought… Sorry. Let me – ”

“No! No, I just… You’re so sexy,” Bucky said, tugging his own pants off and climbing into bed. He reached for Steve, who was still looking bashful. “Stevie, come on. Don’t be shy now. We just finished a post-blow-job dinner. Come to bed,” he cajoled.

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve laughed, crawling into bed. He allowed Bucky to manhandle him so that his back was pressed against Bucky’s chest and his head was pillowed on Bucky’s left arm.

"Whatever, punk." Bucky tangled the fingers of their left hands together and curled his right hand over Steve’s heart. Steve hooked his foot over Bucky’s ankle and tangled their legs. His breathing quickly evened out, the faintest, most adorable snoring Bucky ever heard whistled through his nose.

Bucky’s last thought before drifting off himself was that he wasn’t about to let Steve go any time soon, and he hoped Steve felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of these are wrong, please let me know! I'm relying on google translate, which feels like relying on an American to  
> дорогой - dorogoy - darling  
> ***возлюбленный - vozlyublennyy - sweetheart  
> красивый - krasivyy - handsome  
> котенок - kotenok - kitten
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me through this! It has been an absolute blast to write! I know I said I wouldn't be back until I finished my three shorts but, uh, Stucky. As always, please come visit me on tumblr so we can cry about these two dorks together!  
> ***Thank you, stickinsect for correcting this!


	5. Birthday Cake, Fireworks, and Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Steve's birthday, and his friends take him to Clint's grandfather's farm to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: here there be sexy times.
> 
> I honestly don't know how many more chapters I can stretch this into, but I appreciate every single comment and all the kudos and you are guys are all just amazing and wonderful. Thanks, as always, goes to my precious sunflower of a beta, TheMeaningOfHaste (seriously go read her stuff she's amazing!)
> 
> This is a beast of a chapter, but it didn't feel right splitting it anywhere. Seriously, like, 20 pages. It's HUGE. If you can stick with it til the end of the line, there's (badly written according to me, but not badly written according to my beta don't listen to her she's crazy) Stucky love-makin'.

A month in, their little group blended seamlessly together. Clint and Sam found an easy, if competitive, camaraderie, and Natasha and Peggy spent most of their time together trying to wrangle their respective boyfriends into some semblance of respectability in public. Steve and Bucky were just happy to be with each other. They gave their friends pause more than once, seeming to finish the other’s thoughts without anything more than the beginning of a statement.

“Steve, do you – ”

“Front pocket of your leather jacket. Did you get – ”

“Of course I did. What do you take me for? Are – ”

“Peggy said they’d be over in five.”

“It’s creepy, right?” Clint whispered to Natasha.

“It’s something,” she muttered, watching them calculatingly.

They were on their way to Clint’s grandfather’s farm for a barbecue to celebrate Steve’s birthday and the holiday in general. Clint insisted, stating that it was tradition to go to Gramps’s farm, eat too much, and set off so many fireworks that the chickens wouldn’t lay eggs for a week.

“Now, with birthday cake,” he said cheerfully, slinging an arm around Steve’s neck and hugging him against his side.

“You guys know you don’t have to do anything for my birthday,” Steve said uncomfortably.

“Hands off, Old McBarton. Go try and charm your girlfriend,” Bucky said, extracting Steve from Clint’s arm.

“I don’t know why, but it seems to work every time,” Natasha called from Bucky’s sofa. Clint dropped down beside her, maneuvering himself to get his head in her lap.

“Come on, Stevie, it’s your first birthday with me. Let me lavish attention on you,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve’s arms went around Bucky’s waist immediately and he tilted his chin up for a kiss.

“God, you two, get a room. Or, no, don’t. Just stop. It’s a two hour drive and I wanna leave,” Clint said. “Are Peggy and Sam coming or – ”

“Keep your pants on, Barton. We were making sure all the food that Steve insisted on cooking wasn’t going to spill all over the beer. Let’s go,” Sam said as he opened the door. Three coolers were stacked in the hall.

They all filed out of Bucky’s apartment, Sam, Bucky, and Clint grabbing coolers while everyone else went to the elevators.

“Wait, my sketchbook. I – ” Steve tried to turn back to the apartment, not liking the idea of being without it.

“I got it,” Bucky said, handing Steve his leather messenger bag that was stuffed with art supplies and his sketchbook.

“Hey, wait, no, we can’t all fit in here with the coolers,” Natasha grumbled.

“Sure we can! I’ll sit on top!” Clint said, stacking the coolers and moving to hop up.

“No, you’re not,” Natasha said, gripping his arm.

“It’s okay, guys, we’ll take the stairs. Come on, Buck,” Steve said, dragging Bucky out of the elevator with him.

Clint began singing ‘Let’s Get It On’ and Sam joined in. Steve turned beet red as the door closed on their friends, leaving them alone in the hallway.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, pulling Steve into a hug.

Steve nodded against Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t really want anyone making a big deal about my birthday.”

“Baby, Clint will use any excuse to have a party. Remember a week ago when he threw a ‘Nat’s Not Pregnant’ party? Think of it as America’s birthday, if you’re that uncomfortable. No one will force anything on you. Besides birthday cake, presents, and fireworks,” Bucky said with a grin.

Steve groaned, but Bucky knew he was smiling. “Let’s go. If we’re more than a minute behind them, Sam will come up looking for us. But first…” He threaded his fingers into the short hairs at the back of Bucky’s head and pulled him down for a slow, lingering kiss. Bucky made a soft sound in the back of his throat, not quite a growl, and suddenly Steve wasn’t sure he cared if Sam came back.

“You’re killin’ me, Rogers,” Bucky muttered.

“We can always meet them there later,” Steve said as he slid his hands into Bucky’s back pockets.

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Bucky asked, hips stuttering forward as Steve gripped his butt. “Stop it, Steve. We’re going to the party. It’s just our friends. We won’t drink too much and we’ll come back tonight.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbled, only a little petulantly.

“Besides, we need to be alone for me to give you your present.” Bucky pressed the button for the elevator, giving them a few extra moments alone.

“I told you not to get me anything,” Steve complained. He hated this, being the center of attention.

“Relax, Stevie, it’s nothin’ much, but I hope you’ll like it,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Oh, stop it! I won’t touch you again for the rest of the day if you don’t stop pouting.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered, chagrinned. He knew he was being a brat, but it was his birthday, after all.

“Now gimme a kiss before we get caught, get on the elevator, and get ready to have a good time,” Bucky ordered before leaning down and pressing their lips together. He was just teasing at Steve’s lip ring when the elevator dinged.

“Dammit, I knew it! It’s been a month! Aren’t you two sick of each other yet?” Sam stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at them with mock outrage.

“Nah, don’t you know Sam? I’m with him til the end of the line,” Steve said, laying his head against Bucky’s chest.

“Ugh, you two are disgusting. I think you’re giving me a cavity. You’re gonna owe me for dental work. Let’s go. Now.” Sam was using the voice he usually only reserved for when Steve was sick and wouldn’t go to the doctor.

“Sorry, man.” Bucky’s grin said that he was anything but sorry.

They rode down with Sam who got off the elevator and held his hand out to Clint.

“Every stitch of clothing was still on. Pay up, Barton,” Sam said.

“You two just cost me $20!” Clint complained.

“We’re taking the bike. We have plans tonight,” Bucky explained.

“No stop-offs for sex. I can’t afford to lose another bet,” Clint warned. “Ouch, Nat, jeez!”

“Leave them alone, get in the car, and do not touch my iPod,” Natasha said, dragging him to the driver’s side of his car.

“Clint, if you’re that interested in our sex life, you could always ask,” Bucky called over his shoulder, dragging Steve toward the alley where a small garage was nestled into the side of the building. He unlocked the door, wheeled his motorcycle out, and handed Steve his helmet. He put his own on and kicked the bike to life.

Steve hopped on the back and wound his arms around Bucky’s waist, linking his fingers just under Bucky’s navel.

Bucky eased out of the alley and shot by Clint’s car, earning a loud honk. Steve grinning, laying his head against Bucky’s back and exhilarating in the wind whipping by him. He loved this, nothing but Bucky, the throaty purr of the bike, and then smells of the city all blurring together into a full-body experience that made his breath catch in a way that was nothing like an asthma attack.

When they got far enough out of the city to really let loose, Bucky and Clint amused themselves by passing each other. It was a much quicker drive than Bucky remembered. Maybe it passed faster than the last time because he had Steve pressed against the length of him.

They pulled onto a dirt road and into a clearing, where a large farm house, barn, and huge corral dominated the area, with a beautiful little pond. Steve and Bucky followed Clint’s car up to the front of the house where an older man who looked shockingly like Clint sat on the porch with pipe.

“Gramps!” Clint called as he jumped out of the car. He hurtled over the porch railing and hugged the man hard enough that his ribs probably creaked.

“Put me down, you damn fool!” he demanded.

“Sorry, Gramps. I missed you!” Clint grinned.

“You’re gonna miss me even more if you scare my chickens bad enough that they won’t lay eggs again. You won’t be allowed back,” he replied with his own smile. “Now, where’s that beautiful future granddaughter-in-law that puts up with your nonsense?”

“I’m here, Francis,” Natasha said, appearing behind Clint. She hugged Francis and then gestured behind them. “We brought guests. You know Bucky, and this is Steve, Sam, and Peggy. Lady and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the man responsible for any shred of common sense Clint might possess, Francis Barton.”

“Don’t that ring get in the way?” Francis asked, gesturing at Steve’s mouth.

“No, sir. You get used to it,” Steve replied with a smile.

“Huh,” Francis said, returning Steve’s smile with a little quirk of his own lips.

After introductions were made, they carried the coolers around to three picnic tables that **(sat)** in the shade of three huge oak trees. Clint took a running leap and hung for a moment before swinging himself up onto a branch. He stood on it, his arms out for balance.

“Clint, get down before you break your neck,” Natasha said calmly as she and Peggy shook out red-white-and-blue checked sheets over the tables.

Clint bent his knees and flipped forward, landing beside her without so much as a stumble. He kissed her cheek and went to find a beer.

“Has he always been such a show-off?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Francis, Natasha, and Bucky answered together.

Steve laughed and opened one of the coolers, pulling out bottles of beer for everyone. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he had gone overboard. But between his four friends, himself, and Bucky, there were a lot of different dishes that he wanted to include. One cooler was full of meats – hot dogs, burgers, chicken. The second contained side dishes and beer. Steve wasn’t sure what was in the third cooler, but he had a suspicion it was the cake. When Bucky sat down on the cooler, his suspicions were confirmed.

Bucky was aiming for casual when he sat on the lid of the cooler, but from the dark look Steve shot his way, he hadn’t pulled it off. Aiming for that old Barnes Charm that had worked on everyone in the past, he grinned.

“What’s up, Stevie?” he asked.

“I know my birthday cake is in there. It’s not really a surprise anymore,” Steve said.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You promised you’d stop pouting. You’re not allowed to see the cake until it’s time to cut it. It’s a surprise. Take a walk with me. Sam and Clint are going to fire up the grill, so we won’t be eating for a while. Let’s go say hi to the ducks.” Bucky stood and took Steve’s hand.

“Watch yourselves. There’s a goose that likes to chase people sometimes,” Francis called as they headed off toward the water.

“Maybe the barn, then. Do you still have the horses?” Bucky asked.

“Sure do. There’s some apples in a bucket by the door. Feel free to give them a couple, if you’d like,” Francis said.

“Bring your bag, Stevie.” Bucky led Steve toward the barn and held the door open for him. Steve grabbed a couple apples as they moved into the bright, clean barn. On the outside, it looked a little beat up but inside, it couldn’t have been more modern. Two horses poked their heads out of their stalls at the sound of the door being opened. Bucky hung back behind Steve, watching as he approached the first horse.

“Hey, buddy. Want an apple?” Steve asked gently, holding the apple flat in his palm and smiling as the horse plucked it up and crunched it loudly. “Here, Buck, you wanna feed the other one?”

The other horse was sniffing the air and whickering softly at the scent of apples. Steve offered the apple to Bucky, who shook his head.

“Nah, that’s okay. I don’t want to get horse spit all over me.” In truth, he was a little intimidated by them. As often as Clint had dragged him here, he wasn’t comfortable around animals that big. “Feed it, and then let’s go. There’s something I wanna show you.”

Steve held up the apple to the other horse and then scratched it’s forelock as it ate. Bucky took his hand again and pulled him toward a set of stairs.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.

“Up,” is all Bucky would say. He wanted to show him the view from the hay loft, but more importantly, he wanted a little alone time with his – how did he classify Steve? Boyfriend seemed the most appropriate, but without having had that conversation yet, he wasn’t comfortable calling them that. Hell, they hadn’t even actually had sex yet. Sure, they fooled around – A LOT – and it was always fun, and hot, and it wasn’t like they didn’t want to, but they just hadn’t yet. He intended to change that tonight, though.

While Steve was in the shower that morning, Bucky put brand new sheets on the bed and sat a bunch of candles around. He knew he didn’t need to seduce Steve, that wasn’t what this was. He wanted to give Steve romance, to show him how much he meant. He had a sneaking suspicious that Steve had never allowed himself to be taken care of, to allow himself the luxury of letting someone else take the reins and make him feel like he was more important than anything else. Steve did that for him and now it was his turn to do it for Steve.

They stepped through a door and into a large open space that was half-filled with sweet-smelling hay. Bucky led Steve to a set of doors built into the side of the wall and opened one of them. The view was spectacular. They could see the entire farm spread out below them. The pond glittered brightly, the sun reflecting across its whole surface. They watched Sam and Clint elbowed each other as they set up the grill. Peggy and Natasha were spreading out a large blanket, which they then settled on to watch their boyfriends. Francis sat at one of the tables, laughing at their antics.

“This is amazing, Buck. Thank you for bringing me up here,” Steve said, putting an arm around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky turned so that they were face to face. “No problem. I love it up here. I thought maybe you’d want to sketch it real quick.”

Steve grinned and kissed him lightly. He sat down with his legs dangling out the door and pulled his bag over his shoulder. Bucky sat behind him and wound his arms around Steve’s middle, clasping his hands over Steve’s stomach. He settled his chin on Steve’s shoulder and watched with a small smile as Steve opened his bag.

“That’s not… Where did these come from?” Steve pulled a case of pencils out of the bag that were wrapped in a ribbon.

“Me,” Bucky said, kissing his cheek. “I have a surprise planned for later, but I wanted to give you something this morning, too.”

“These are perfect. I needed a new set. Thank you, Buck,” Steve smiled, turning to kiss him on the lips. He untied the ribbon excitedly and popped the case open.

“You’re welcome, Stevie,” Buck replied, very pleased with himself.

For what had to be, without hyperbole, the hundredth time in the short while they’d been together, Steve wondered how he got so lucky to have found Bucky. He was smart, sweet, and caring, and he listened whenever Steve talked, which most people weren’t willing to do. Steve wasn’t one for long speeches, and whenever he did speak, he took his time, chose his words carefully, and never used three words when one would do. Some people found that off-putting, but not Bucky. He called Steve ‘refreshing’, and once, memorably, Hemmingway, if he were an artist, not an author. Granted, it was in the wake of a pretty damned amazing blowjob, if Steve said so himself, but Bucky had promptly turned bright red and stuttered, trying to get his sluggish mind to catch up with his mouth. Steve only laughed and kissed him, and then spent the next three days answering to Ernie.

He was just finishing a rough sketch of the farm when Natasha spotted them and waved.

“We should probably go back down,” Bucky said, though he made no move to get up.

“Let’s stay here. I’ll make it worth your while,” Steve said, carefully packing away his pencils and sketchbook.

“Don’t tempt me.” Bucky tried leading Steve to the stairs, but Steve had other plans.

Steve dug his heels in and pulled Bucky in the other direction, toward the stacks of hay bales, where there was loose hay scattered around, making what could conceivably be a cozy spot in which to make out.

“Stevie,” Bucky said in what was supposed to be a warning tone, but came out too breathy, more like a low groan, eager for whatever Steve was planning.

Steve grinned and dropped to his knees in front of Bucky.

“Steve, no, not here. We can’t do that right now,” Bucky said, trying to haul Steve to his feet.

“Relax, you pervert,” Steve laughed, tugging Bucky’s hand until he got the message and knelt down, too. “I would never do that where we could get caught. I just want to kiss you.”

Like Bucky was going to argue. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him close. “In that case…”

Bucky nipped at Steve’s lower lip and then soothed the spot with his tongue before tugging on his lip ring, causing Steve to moan softly. He licked into Steve’s mouth as Steve’s hand sunk into his hair, pulling lightly.

Steve pushed gently at Bucky’s shoulders and Bucky took the hint, lying back with Steve on top of him. Steve settled his hips against Bucky’s and, just as he ground against him, he clamped his lips around Bucky’s tongue and sucked hard.

Bucky gasped, his hips stuttering. “Jesus, you’re a filthy little shit,” he muttered as Steve moved to nibble on his ear.

Steve wouldn’t take it any further than this, but hell, this was good. He wasn’t even sure how long they lay tangled up together, not doing anything more than kissing. Eventually, though, he became aware of someone standing over them.

Steve pulled back and Bucky whimpered, opening his eyes questioningly and immediately regretting it. Clint stood over them with the biggest grin on his face.

“I knew it,” Clint said, his grin somehow getting wider.

“Shut up, Old McBarton,” Bucky grumbled.

“Hey, I promise, I won’t say a word. Just get your asses downstairs. We’ve got about half the meat on the grill. Unless you’d rather – ”

“Don’t say another word,” Steve warned, pushing himself up and taking Bucky’s hand to help him stand.

“Come on, Steve, we need you.” Clint headed to the stairs.

“You have hay in your hair,” Steve said, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

Bucky grinned down at him. “Totally worth it.” He kissed the tip of Steve’s nose.

“No. No, absolutely not. No. If you two don’t come down right now, I’m telling them you’re screwing,” Clint grumbled, dragging them both to the stairs.

It wasn’t as if everyone didn’t already know where they were and what they were probably up to, but the second they got close enough for Sam to see their disheveled hair and the hay sticking to their clothes despite their best efforts to dust themselves off, he began teasing them.

“Honestly, can you two keep your hands to yourselves for five damn minutes?”

Bucky and Steve grinned. They were used to this sort of ribbing.

“I seem to remember when the two of you first started getting hot and heavy, I would have to knock to leave my own bedroom.” Steve levelled a look at Sam while Peggy turned a very delicate shade of pink.

“And you two,” Bucky said, pointing between Natasha and Clint.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow and Clint just laughed.

“Yeah, those two,” Francis agreed from his place by the grill. He’d offered to watch the meat cooking while Steve opened his gifts. “The first time they came up here, they went skinny dipping and scared the ducks so bad, I had to coax ‘em back with special snails.”

“I think that’s enough about our private lives,” Peggy said, coming over to guide Steve to the bench. “For now, let’s have Steve open his presents.”

Amid Steve’s protests that they didn’t need to get him anything, he sat down and opened the first gift. From Clint and Natasha, he received a new set of knives and a knife rack in the shape of a Spartan warrior. Peggy’s gift was a beautiful leather binder.

“Now you can’t complain that you have nowhere to keep your loose-leaf drawings,” she said after dropping a kiss on his cheek.

Sam gave him an entire box of yarn and a new set of knitting needles. Steve grinned, immediately thinking of his next project.

“You _knit_?” Clint asked.

“He’s working a sweater,” Bucky said with a grin.

“What about you, Bucky? What did you get him?” Clint asked.

“A new set of really fantastic pencils,” Steve said, proudly pulling them from his bag and setting them with the other small pile of gifts. “You guys didn’t have to do any of this, but I love everything. Thank you all so much.”

“That’s not quite everything,” Natasha said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I hope this isn’t overstepping, but Bucky mentioned that you were interested in getting a tattoo on your chest, maybe covering or incorporating your scar. As you know, I did Bucky’s arm. I drew these up to show what I might be able to do. Whenever you’re ready, _if_ you’re ever ready, come and see me. We’ll see what we can do.”

Steve tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and found he couldn’t. He simply nodded, tears threatening to spill over as he looked down at the drawings in his hands. “I don’t know what to say, Nat. Thank you,” he muttered.

“Anytime, Steve,” she said with genuine affection.

“We haven’t taken any photos yet,” Peggy said, pulling out her phone and taking a few of Steve surrounded by his gifts.

“Oh! Lemme take a selfie!” Sam said, stealing Steve’s phone and propping his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “Smile, buddy!”

“Selfies with the birthday boy!” Bucky declared. Once Sam had snapped his photo, Bucky took the phone and leaned in. He kissed Steve on the cheek and took the photo.

“My turn,” Clint said, holding his hand out impatiently.

“Hang on. I wanna send this to myself. I need new wallpaper,” Bucky said.

They continued taking photos of themselves and each other until Francis announced that the food was ready and if they wanted to eat it hot, they needed to put the cameras away.

“Steve, is there anything left in the kitchen?” Sam asked as they began unloading the cooler that held everything Steve had cooked.

“Probably not, but Bucky wanted potato salad when everyone else wanted macaroni, and while I was at it, I figured I’d make an antipasto salad. Okay, yeah, I got carried away, but I’ve seen the way the four of us eat. I’m confident that there won’t be too many leftovers,” Steve said.

He was right; even Francis praised Steve’s cooking, which, according to Clint, was high praise indeed. When everyone finally began to clean up, there wasn’t much left. After stowing the leftovers in Francis’s fridge, Steve was lounging against Bucky under one of the trees when Clint jumped up.

“Okay, let’s cut the cake!” he enthused.

Sam and Peggy opened the third cooler and reached in, lifting out an incredibly large sheet cake. Natasha stuck the candles in and lit them, and everyone began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

Steve could feel his face turning red and cursed his pale Irish hide yet again. These people were his friends, hell, his family, in the case of Sam and Peggy. What could he possibly be embarrassed about in front of them?

Bucky dragged him up and guided him to the table. As they sat the cake down in front of him, Bucky leaned in very close to whisper in his ear.

“Make a wish, baby,” he said before very lightly biting Steve’s earlobe.

_I wish he’d never stop doing things like this_ , Steve thought before taking a deep breath and blowing out the candles. While everyone cheered, Steve took a moment to look closely at the cake. It was decorated with an artist’s palette that looked smudged and smeared with paint. ‘Happy Birthday, Steve’ was written in what looked like brush strokes. It was almost too pretty to eat. He pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures of it.

Natasha handed Steve the knife and he cut the cake with just a twinge of sadness. It really was an amazing cake.

“It’s getting late. Do you wanna stay for fireworks?” Bucky asked softly when everyone else was distracted by Clint trying to catch bites of cake in his mouth, flung from Nat’s fork. He was managing to do quite well, and had only missed one, which was stuck to his cheek by icing.

“As much as I’d like to watch Clint scare the chickens and ducks, it’s been a really long day. I kinda want to just go home. You can see the ones they shoot up over the river really well from the roof,” Steve answered just as softly. “We usually go up with some beer and Sam’s iPod.”

“No one will mind if we leave. I’d like to go up to the roof and watch the fireworks, just us. Whataya say, Stevie?” Bucky said, tilting Steve’s head for a gentle kiss.

“I’d like that. Besides, you said you have another present for me. I’d kinda like to see what that is.” He knew what he _hoped_ it was, but Bucky had said it was nothing much.

They stood from their position under the tree and carried their empty plates to the trash can that Francis had set up beside the tables.

“I think we’re heading home early,” Bucky said.

“What? No! We have a ton of fireworks!” Clint cried.

“What’s that, Clint?” Francis asked with a glare.

“Sparklers, Gramps, I promise,” he said a little too quickly to convince anyone.

“It’s my fault,” Steve said apologetically. “No, really. It’s been a lot today. I don’t normally socialize this much. Sorry, Clint. Maybe next time?”

“I’ll save them, for you, buddy,” Clint said conspiratorially.

Clint, then Natasha, Peggy, and even Francis, hugged Steve tightly, wishing him a happy birthday once again. Sam was last, and spoke softly in his ear.

“Your condoms are still in the bag. I took the liberty of putting them on your bed. I’m staying at Peggy’s tonight.”

“Jesus, Wilson,” Steve muttered, shoving him playfully.

“Just thought you’d like to know,” he said with a smirk. “Hey, don’t worry about your gifts. We’ll bring them with us. Just drive safe.”

With final goodbyes and birthday wishes, Steve climbed on the back of Bucky’s bike and they set off for home.

Two hours later, they pulled into the alley and Bucky locked up his bike. His arm settled over Steve’s shoulders as they headed around to the front of their building. Steve laid his head on Bucky’s shoulder and slipped his hand into Bucky’s back pocket.

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy, this content to be with someone just to be with them, not for anything more, although, if tonight went as planned, there would be so much more. He followed Steve up the stairs, incredibly glad that Steve had chosen to wear that particular pair of jeans. It was with that thought in his mind that he was stopped by a rough voice he recognized all too well.

“Well, well, well, the prodigal son returns. Where’ve you been the last couple months, baby?” Brock Rumlow slurred, pushing off from where he was leaning against the door jamb.

“Brock, what the hell are you doing here?” Bucky demanded. He turned to the left, just a little, blocking his arm from view with the rest of his body.

“This guy again? Hey, buddy, go home and sleep it off,” Steve said, slipping between Buck and his obviously-drunken ex.

“Ain’t none’o your business, little guy. Best back off, now. Come on, Bucky. Let’s go get a drink and talk.” Brock tried to reach by Steve and made a grab for Bucky’s arm. He was stopped by Steve, who shoved his arm away.

“Steve, don’t. I can handle this. Brock, you need to leave.” Bucky put his left hand on Steve’s hip, hoping that would sufficiently restrain him. He’d heard that tone in Steve’s voice before and had watched as Steve had made bigger guys than Brock back off with just a glare and a few choice words, but this wasn’t just some random asshole on the street. Brock always came off as having an air of danger that was honestly the reason Bucky had been attracted to him in the first place.

Bucky’s hand on Steve’s hip didn’t go unnoticed, as he frankly had hoped it would in Brock’s drunken state.

“Ohhh,” Brock laughed. “Oh-ho-ho, you gotta be kiddin’ me, Barnes. _This guy?_ This is who you’re tryin’ to replace me with? This sawed-off, scrawny little runt?”

“He isn’t replacing you. He moved on. I suggest you do the same.” Steve wasn’t about to back down to this asshole, especially not when he was eyeing Bucky like he wanted to do…something. At the moment, Steve wasn’t sure if Brock wanted to take Bucky to bed or to hit him, but whichever it was, Steve wasn’t allowing him to get any closer to Bucky.

“You need to leave, Brock. Come on, Stevie, let’s go.” Bucky took Steve’s hand and tried to usher him into the building.

“I wasn’t done talkin’ to you,” Brock said, making a grab for Bucky’s free hand.

“He said you need to go,” Steve said, stubbornly standing his ground.

“Hell, who would want him anyway?” Brock snapped. “He’s got a pretty face and he may be damned good at takin’ it, but look at him, all scarred up like that, he’s damaged goods. He – ”

Whatever else Brock was about to say, it was cut off by Steve’s fist making contact with his nose, blood flowing freely Steve threw another punch, hitting him in the jaw this time, before Brock recovered enough to swing back. He caught Steve on the cheekbone. Steve fell backwards, smacking his back and head against the stairs. Bucky dropped to his knees beside him, cradling his head as Steve blinked owlishly for a moment, stunned that he’d be knocked down.

Brock took a step forward as if intent on hitting him again. 

“ _Enough!_ ” Bucky shouted, rising and shoving Brock before he could take another step. “Get the hell out of here, you drunk dickhead. Next time you come show up, I’m calling the cops. Fucking go!”

Brock stared at him as though he’d grown another head. “You’ll come back. You know what you got when you got me,” he muttered, squinting at Bucky before turning and starting to walk away. “You’ll be back when that little bitch you had step between us realizes what a fuckin’ train wreck you are.”

Buck watched as Brock slowly walked away, keeping an eye on him until he was sure he wouldn’t come back.

“Stevie, come on, we’ll get you up to my place. You – Hey! Steve!” Bucky fumbled with his key as he watched the elevator close with Steve inside.

Bucky finally got into the building and took the stairs two at a time. He made it up to their floor in record time, but found the hallway empty. He tried the door to Steve’s and found it locked, so he dug out the key Steve had given him and opened the door.

“Stevie!” he called, moving quickly from room to room, but Steve was nowhere to be found, and the same went for his own apartment. Beginning to panic, he called Sam and explained what happened.

“Try the roof. If he’s not there, call me back. He goes up there sometimes. Text me either way, though, okay?”

After assuring Sam that he’d let him know, Bucky grabbed two ice packs from the freezer and went up the last flight of stairs. The roof door was propped open with a brick, so Bucky carefully replaced it when he stepped out. He glanced around, noting a picnic table, chairs, and strings of Christmas lights. He found Steve curled in on himself on a chaise lounge chair, hastily wiping his eyes.

“Stevie?” Bucky said tentatively.

“You talked to Sam,” Steve said. It wasn’t a question and his voice was so flat that it didn’t sound like it was coming from him.

“I brought you ice,” Bucky offered, sitting down beside Steve’s feet.

“You can just leave it there,” he muttered. He knew what was coming. This was where Bucky let him down gently, promising that it was nothing Steve had done. It just wasn’t going to work. _Weak, scrawny, little runt_ , he told himself, replaying the scene downstairs over and over in his head.

“Leave it? Why would I leave it? Come here. Let me – ”

“It’s fine, Buck. I know how this works. You can just leave it there. I don’t need to hear it.” He turned further away and tucked his arms around himself tighter.

Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him upright. “What the hell are you talking about? Stevie, c’mon. I need to look at your head. You hit it really hard and I – ”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me Stevie when you’re breaking up with me,” Steve snapped.

“Bre – What? I’m not breaking up with you,” Bucky said incredulously.

Steve looked up sharply. “You’re not?”

“Why would I break up with you?” Bucky demanded.

“That’s how this goes. I’m not… I mean, I don’t look like that guy. And he was right. I’m scrawny. I – ”

“Hey. Hey, Stevie, stop.” Bucky pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met? No one has ever stood up for me like that before besides Nat, and frankly, she even scares me. I…I wanted to leave early because I…had this whole…thing planned. Come on. Let’s – ” He was interrupted by a BANG and a shower of sparks filled the sky. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. Do you… Can we stay and watch?” 

“You’re not breaking up with me?” Steve asked again. He wanted to be sure.

“Stevie, baby, no. No, I’m not breaking up with you. I…here,” Bucky said, motioning for Steve to move so that Bucky could hold him against his chest. He settled back against the chair and wound his arms around Steve’s shoulders and lightly stroked his chest through his shirt. “This isn’t exactly how I saw tonight going.”

“Tell me,” Steve said, settling his head against Bucky’s shoulder. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that he’d smacked it against the stairs and pulled away with a hiss.

“Let me see,” Bucky said, releasing Steve so he could look at the back of his head. “You’ve got a big lump. Here, let me put some ice on it.” Bucky picked up one of the ice packs and gently pressed it to Steve’s head. “I’m so sorry he was here. I thought I was finally rid of him. I changed my number right after I met you and he’d been leaving me alone otherwise.”

“It’s not your fault. He’s a persistent prick, isn’t he?”

“He is that.” Bucky stroked his fingers down Steve’s chest and over his stomach.

“You deserve so much better than that, Buck,” Steve said, twining their fingers together.

“I’ve got something so much better.” Bucky kissed his temple and settled him closer.

“We’re missing the fireworks,” Steve said after a moment. They lay in the chaise, watching as red, blue, green, gold, and silver lit the sky. Steve found a comfortable position in which to rest his head with the ice pack against Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky’s strong arms around him, and slowly, Steve began to relax. He took the other ice pack and pressed it to his cheek. He could feel it swelling slightly and had no desire to be unable to open his eye.

They watched until the fireworks ended, and then Steve turned in Bucky’s arms and pressed a kiss lightly against his lips.

“Did you really think I was breaking up with you?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, I did. It’s happened one too many times. I’ve lost my temper just like I did tonight and I end up with a black eye or a split lip for no reason other than I can’t stand to see people getting bullied.” Steve sat up and straddled Bucky’s thighs. “What he said, Bucky, you have to know none of that **is** true. You’re not damaged goods.”

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” Bucky asked, unable to meet Steve’s eye.

Steve caught Bucky’s chin and made him look up at him. “I don’t. I’m just always honest. I mean it. I lo – You’re not damaged.”

Steve caught himself at the last possible moment. It was way too soon for a declaration of love, although he was certain that’s what he felt, sitting on Bucky’s lap as Bucky ran his hands over his thighs and stared up at him like he was something special.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. No one had ever – _ever_ – treated him like he mattered, like he was important. And here was Steve, his brave, beautiful Steve, who stood up for him, made him feel like he was worth his time. “C’mere.”

Steve went willing into Bucky’s arms. Their lips met hungrily, tongues brushing, hands searching out skin.

“You said you had a surprise for me,” Steve said against Bucky’s lips before moving down to his jaw and neck.

Bucky paused, it was incredibly hard to concentrate on what Steve was saying when he was doing that. “I also…mmm, god, don’t stop…” Steve was running his hands up and down Bucky’s back under his shirt, slender artist’s fingers teasing lightly under the waistband of his jeans.

“I won’t stop if you show me what you were talking about.” He boldly dragged one hand over the bulge in Bucky’s jeans before popping the button open.

“Wait, Stevie, wait. Come on. I’ll show you. Come with me,” Bucky said, taking a shaky breath and grabbing Steve’s hand to drag him inside.

Steve couldn’t keep his hands to himself.  He stood behind Bucky as he tried to unlock his door, sliding his hands up Bucky’s stomach under his shirt, enjoying the way Bucky’s muscles contracted as he found a ticklish spot. Then, he dragged them back down, short nails scraping lightly over his skin until he reached the open button his jeans.

“Steve, wait. Stop. Let me get the door open,” Bucky mumbled his breathing erratic.

“M’not stoppin’ you,” Steve said, very, very slowly dragging the zipper down.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, his head falling forward and hitting the door. He finally got the key in and the door open. “Stay here. Just…” He kissed Steve once, deeply and thoroughly, before pulling away and moving into his room.

Steve made to follow but Bucky held up a finger and asked him one more time to wait. He was confused, but he did as he was asked, and less than two minutes later, Bucky came out and motioned for him to follow. The bedroom was awash in candlelight. At least a dozen candles sat around, flames flickering softly.

“When did you do this?” Steve asked, a shy, indulgent smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

The candlelight glinted off of his lip ring and suddenly Bucky was kissing him again, nipping and tugging at the little hoop, licking into his mouth only to tear his lips away and kiss across Steve’s jaw. “This morning, while you were in the shower.”

“Are you tryin’ to seduce me? ‘Cause I’m a pretty sure bet at this point,” Steve joked, his smile broadening.

“No, I just wanted to show you how much I care about you…how important you are.” Bucky kissed him again, but this time it was different, slower, a much more intimate perusal of his mouth.

It was Steve who broke the kiss to pull Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth. “You can seduce me any time,” he whispered as he finally got Bucky’s jeans properly unzipped. He pushed them, and his boxers, down to pool at Bucky’s feet. Bucky’s shirt came off immediately after, Steve running his hands down Bucky’s ribs with firm pressure. He kissed his way from Bucky’s shoulder all the way to his fingertips, making sure he didn’t miss a single inch of the scars that his tattoo masked so cleverly.

Somehow, Steve had managed to turn the tables on him, taking control and making it more about Bucky, but there wasn’t a damn thing Bucky could do about it with Steve pushing him backward onto the bed. Bucky watched as Steve stripped his own clothes off, lingering for a just a split second over his shirt. It was enough, though, and Bucky reached for him, lifting the shirt up and kissing every inch of Steve’s stomach and chest in much the same way Steve had done to his arm.

When he finally had him nude, Bucky pulled him on top of him, settling back with Steve pressing him into the mattress.

“I want you,” Bucky groaned, shuddering in anticipation as their cocks brushed against each other.

 “I want you, too, Buck,” Steve murmured against his throat before moving to his chest to kiss a pattern down his sternum.

“Wait, Stevie. I mean…I want you inside of me,” Bucky said, tilting Steve’s face up.

Steve went still, searching Bucky’s face for any sign of uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“That was kinda the point of all of this, of us coming back early. If you’re not ready, we don’t have to, but – ”

Steve cut him off with a deep, desperate kiss. He licked into Bucky’s mouth as he reached between them and wrapped his hand around Bucky’s painfully hard cock. Bucky gasped against his lips, back arching off the bed.

“I’m ready, god, I’m so ready. I want you so much, Buck.” Steve leaned up on elbow, brushing Bucky’s hair back from his forehead. “I’ve wanted you from the second you took your shirt off to show me your tattoo about five minutes after we met.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh that trailed off into a moan as Steve ran his thumb over the head. “Steve, please…”

“Do you…I mean, do we have…stuff?” Steve asked, still managing to blush prettily despite what they were doing.

Bucky silently thanked Clint for being a smartass and reached for his bedside table and opened the drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms and dropped them on the bed before pulling Steve back down for a slow, searing kiss that left them both breathless.

Steve popped the cap on the bottle and slicked up his fingers. He kissed his way down Bucky’s jaw to his neck and, as he sucked a bruise on Bucky’s throat, he gently pressed the tip of one finger inside the impossibly tight ring of muscle.

“Stevie,” Bucky gasped. His hips stuttered, making Steve’s finger slip further inside. “Ohh…”

Steve made his way down Bucky’s chest, sucking each nipple in turn before tracing abs with his tongue, never stopping the gentle teasing with his finger.

Bucky died and went to heaven; that was the only way to explain how he ended up here with Steve’s clever fingers teasing his body open, with Steve’s tongue… “Oh, god, Steve…”

Steve licked a stripe up the underside of Bucky’s cock, grinning as Bucky whined his name. As he took him fully into his mouth, Steve added another finger. Bucky thrust up intothe wet heat, bumping the back of Steve’s throat, triggering his gag reflex momentarily. He released Bucky with an obscene, audible pop.

“Don’t stop,” Bucky groaned frantically.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve smirked, thrusting his fingers steadily as he nuzzled Bucky’s balls before lapping a pearl of pre-come from his tip.

Bucky ground his hips down, quickly becoming desperate for more, more of Steve’s fingers, more of Steve’s mouth. He wanted Steve so badly that he was shaking with it. He clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to and afraid that if he grabbed Steve’s arm, he’d bruise him.

As he took Bucky in his mouth again, Steve curled his fingers deep inside, and Bucky saw stars. He moaned harshly and gripped Steve’s hair tightly. Steve whimpered around him and the sound was nearly too much.

“Steve, now, please…”

“Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.” Steve pressed his fingers as deeply as he could and gently scissored them, working Bucky open. With his other hand, he began to lightly jerk Bucky’s cock, sucking just on the head, his tongue working over him. By the time he added a third finger, Bucky was fucking down on his fingers, making the sexiest noises Steve had ever heard in the back of his throat.

“Stevie, please… Fuck… I – Aaahhh… Now, Stevie…”

“Okay, Bucky, yeah… I need…yeah…” Steve had never been this turned on in his entire life. He was worried that he wouldn’t last long, and he wanted desperately for Bucky to come first.

Steve rolled a condom on and quickly poured a liberal amount of lube onto his cock before pushing Bucky’s knee up to his chest and lining himself up. “You okay, Buck?”

“Fuck yes. Please, Stevie,” Bucky said, gripping Steve’s hip.

Steve pressed forward slowly, sucking in a breath as the head of his cock breached the incredibly tight ring of muscle.

“Oh, Jesus, Bucky, you feel so good,” he whispered, rocking gently, going deeper with each movement until his thighs were pressed against Bucky’s ass.

“God, baby, move. I need…” Bucky rolled his hips, watching Steve’s face go through a myriad of expressions before settling on something between determined and desperate.

Steve pulled back, the friction incredible, before sinking back into Bucky’s body. He set a rhythm he could handle, slow and deep, and sank forward onto Bucky’s chest as Bucky pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

“More…harder,” Bucky begged, palming Steve’s ass. His eyes were closed, head thrown back exposing the long line of his throat.

Like Steve could refuse. Another rough, bruising kiss, and he pushed off of Bucky’s chest, locking his elbows and snapping his hips.

“Yes...fuck, Steve…just…hhnngh just like that.” Bucky was babbling, barely able to string to coherent words together.

It was all Steve could do not to come right then and there when Bucky forced his eyes open and looked up at Steve, his pupils blown, mouth curving into a blissful smile. He reached down and grasped himself, eyes drifting closed again, mouth open as he breathed harshly.

“Bucky… Fuck, I – ” Steve gasped. He watched Bucky’s hand, mesmerized by his movements, by the sounds he made. If it were possible to be any closer, Steve didn’t want to know what that felt like. He bit his lip, trying frantically not to come right then and there.

“M’close. So close, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, tilting his hips up. He groaned sharply as the angle changed and suddenly Steve was hitting that perfect spot with each firm thrust. Once, twice, and then one more, and Bucky was spilling over his stomach, Steve’s name on his lips like a prayer.

“Bucky…” Steve cried, his own orgasm washing over him the moment he registered Bucky’s. His hips stuttered as he came, and suddenly he was boneless. Unable to support himself any longer, he collapsed on Bucky’s chest, breathing harshly but with no worrisome wheeze. He shifted his hips, pulling out as carefully as he could. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but his breathing had nearly returned to normal by the time he could move.

Bucky grimaced at the stickiness between them as Steve moved, smiling when Steve caught the expression. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Steve smiled back shyly. He quickly dealt with the condom, tossing it into the trash can beside the bed.

“I’ll get the water hot, if you wanna take a shower,” Bucky offered. At Steve’s nod, he leaned over for a lingering kiss before padding into the bathroom. He winced at the slight soreness as he stepped into the shower, but fuck, was it worth it. Steve was everything he wanted, but after the bad choices he’d made in the past, never thought he’d find. He would easily go so far as to say he was in love with him, but after only a month, he didn’t want to say it yet. He knew that Steve wouldn’t reject it. He was fairly certain that, like himself, Steve had stopped himself from saying it a few times. He jumped slightly when he felt Steve’s arms come around him from behind, but relished the feeling of Steve’s head against his shoulder for a moment before turning in his arms.

Steve thread his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, letting one of his hands run up Bucky’s back, reveling in the play of muscle under his skin. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten lucky enough to find Bucky, but he was damned if he was letting him go anywhere.

Finally, after standing under the spray for a long time, they pulled apart long enough to clean off before getting out and drying off. They moved around the room together, blowing out the candles.

“Did you really need a dozen?” Steve joked, finally climbing back into bed and settling against Bucky’s side, his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Bucky said simply. He kissed the top of Steve’s head and settled him closer, though there wasn’t any space between them anyway.

“Why did you say it wasn’t much?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Bucky said, confused.

“This morning, when you said we needed to be alone for you to give me my present, you said it wasn’t much, but you went to all this trouble. You didn’t mean you, did you? That you’re not much?” Steve sat up, hovering over Bucky.

When he turned that sky blue gaze on him, Bucky sometimes felt like he was going to melt. Other times, like now, he got that strange feeling like Steve could see inside him, see how his mind was working, and it was damn disconcerting.

“It was just self-deprecation. Relax, Stevie. I know how highly you think of me,” Bucky said, attempting to deflect him. He really should have known it wouldn’t work.

“No, I don’t think you do. You wouldn’t say things like that if you did. Bucky, you’re an amazing person. You’re smart, and strong, and you’re so much more than you allow yourself to believe. Stop lookin’ at me all wide-eyed, like I’m the first person to tell you that.” Steve kissed him lightly and settled back down beside him.

Bucky was silent for a moment. Steve wasn’t the first person to tell him that. Natasha, and even once, drunkenly, Clint, said it, but Steve saying it was different. It didn’t necessarily mean more than his friends saying it, but it was weighted differently. He was in love with someone who saw something more in him than just his pretty face or his interesting tattoo. “Stevie, I… You’re such a punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve replied softly, cuddling closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and come and visit me on tumblr at britishcheekbonessociety.tumblr.com and we can talk about this two giant nerdlords.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at BritishCheekbonesSociety and cry about these two nerdlords!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Won't you, Steve?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951021) by [theamazingworldoffanfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingworldoffanfics/pseuds/theamazingworldoffanfics)




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